


pop culture

by tohzier



Category: IT (1990), IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Cannon Divergent, Cannon Typical Violence, F/M, Just Roll With It, M/M, Multi, Reddie, Stenbrough, bc fuck that, benverly - Freeform, eventual stenbranlon, figuring it out as I go, is it 80s? is it modern? i dont even know, mentions of body horror, mentions of throwing up, no pennywise, superpower au, tags to be updated
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-03-08 11:47:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 37,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13457601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tohzier/pseuds/tohzier
Summary: Adulthood in a town like Derry is even worse than childhood. The listless, empty ramblings of days dragging on in a town that felt like one-size-too-small-shoes sat heavier on the recently graduated than the younger children. Before you were eighteen and responsible for your own lunch money, you could spend your interminable afternoons exploring the surrounding environment, friends of friends abound. Escaping to the arcade and seeing the same films six times at the same theater was an acceptable amount of nothing to do at twelve years old. But when nineteen years hit Bill Denbrough and college acceptance letters didn’t, the sudden, overwhelming, nothingness of nowhere Maine became too heavy to bear.





	1. prologue - june

**Author's Note:**

> hello there loves! this is my first time posting my it works over here on ao3. im @tohzier over on tumblr, you can find more of my work there and maybe here eventually lmao. this was the first fic i started for this fandom so bear with me! i also don't have a toooo developed plan or strict writing schedule, so updates may be sporadic. drop over in my inbox on tumblr to be added to my tagslist on my blog posts, or keep an eye out here! i expect this beast will end up being very long bc i am Extra Like That, so uh bear with the slow-ish burn and such (and my feeble attempts at a plot?????) always let me know if you need warnings for content, if you'd like notifiers in the text when something potentially triggering could be coming up, or anything else! i'll do my best to keep the tags and such updated as i go. please please please give me feedback on this piece if you like it/have suggestions/spot errors!! i v much want to know. thank you all for taking the time to read and i hope you enjoy!!

Adulthood in a town like Derry is even worse than childhood. The listless, empty ramblings of days dragging on in a town that felt like one-size-too-small-shoes sat heavier on the recently graduated than the younger children. Before you were eighteen and responsible for your own lunch money, you could spend your interminable afternoons exploring the surrounding environment, friends of friends abound. Escaping to the arcade and seeing the same films six times at the same theater was an acceptable amount of nothing to do at twelve years old. But when nineteen years hit Bill Denbrough and college acceptance letters didn’t, the sudden, overwhelming,  _ nothingness  _ of Nowhere, Maine became too heavy to bear.

Bill knocked the kickstand back up into the recesses of his bike, trusty ole Silver, that had been with him just as long as the sinking feeling in his bones. Swinging his leg over the seat and his backpack behind him, he thought decrepit thoughts that had been plaguing him for months. As he began pedaling off in the direction of the road leading to Mike’s, his woes repeated like a mantra in his head.

_ I’ll never get out of here. We’ll never get out of here. _

This had been the mindset of the eldest Denbrough sibling ever since the beginning of his senior year. As his classmates (and fellow losers) began declaring their majors and matriculations, he found himself slowly but surely running out of time. After all, the system was simple. Graduate, good grades, great college,  _ leave town _ . But none of this was achievable without a college to leave  _ to _ . Having no destination; that was his true fear.

Ignoring a slight pain in his index finger, he pedaled on, hoping an afternoon shucking corn with Mike and Stan would help him forget, even for a moment, how hopeless he was becoming. 

 

___________________________________________________________________

 

Eddie Kaspbrak was dying. He had to be dying. 

Or overdramatic.

But most likely dying.

Head pounding, chest constricting from lack of air, he willed himself to keep running, as fast as humanly possible. 

Terror-stricken thoughts rushed through his mind, as quickly as the air was leaving his lungs. What would it be like now, to be terrorized as an adult? After the years and years of ceaseless bullying, he thought he would be used to the scrapes and bruises. The words stopped hurting after he got more in touch with himself, but there were always new, more vile things to say. But now that he was eighteen, would the game change? What was harassment in the adult world compared to elementary playgrounds?

He thought of Henry Bowers, and his father. Surely a police officer would never choose the law over their own child. And if it came down to it, could Henry get away with something truly vile? 

Sonia used to always say that age made everything worse, and Eddie believed it. His anxiety, his insecurity, his acne, all worse with time. Surely Henry’s sick ideas of a fun Saturday activity would grow more twisted with his age. 

Eddie pushed himself even faster, not daring for a second to look behind. He couldn’t hear his pursuer, but something in his body just  _ knew _ Bowers had to be close on his heels. No matter where his mind ventured, he vowed never to be caught in a situation that would force him to learn the truth. He did not want to know what lied in the heart of Bowers and his cruel friends, and he certainly did not want another fucking scar.

Taking the turn at Mulberry too hard, Eddie skidded into an awkward hunch as he tried to keep his balance. The maneuver slowed him slightly, and when he regained his pace he was off kilter. He could feel himself growing shakier with fear, which was causing his steps to falter and fall unevenly. He tried to take another corner when the street met its dead end, but because his motor control was already in shambles, instead of making the hard right he intended, he tripped over his own feet and tumbled into the tall grass of the empty lot in front of him.

Rolling onto all fours and shaking his head, Eddie took a moment to mourn his inhaler, which he’d graduated from nearly four years previous. He took only seconds to catch his breath before remembering what had led to his fall in the first place. Scrambling to turn around and subsequently landing directly on his ass, he let out a disgruntled yell before glancing up in fear, expecting to see Bowers and/or his entourage of douchebags. 

Nothing.

Eddie sat in confusion, staring at the empty street stretching in front of him through the wheat grass slowly drifting in his peripheral. There was no Bowers, no Belch, no bozos to be seen. Just the train tracks in the distance and the sun-dried grass. 

He let out a sigh of confused relief as he checked himself for scratches. None to be seen, but there were now slight dirt stains in the knees of his jeans. He shielded his eyes from the sun, now squinting, his face a model of sheer bewilderment. 

_ What the fuck had been chasing him? _

He slowly picked himself up, unearthing his shoes, which had somehow become entangled with the grass. With one last glance in all directions, scouting for danger, he decided it was safe, and began walking back home.

 

__________________________________________________________________

 

“Don’t have too much fun without me!” Beverly Marsh called over her shoulder, smirking at her coworker as she left the diner. She received an exasperated laugh and a sarcastic “of course not” as the door swung shut behind her. Haphazardly folding her apron and sticking it under her arm, she reached in her backpack/purse/contraption for her pack and lighter. Finally fishing them out, along with her sunglasses, she began her walk to the library. 

Beverly pulled a cigarette out of the box, sticking it in her mouth. She dropped the box into the bottomless pit she called a bag and knew she wouldn’t find it again easily. She could practically hear the echo it made when it hit the bottom. She shoved her glasses on (after quite a few failed attempts) and lit her cigarette, the lighter quickly joining the pack in the abyss. Taking a long, well deserved drag, Bev smiled to herself with relief. Her shift was finally over, and nothing felt better than dropping the customer service facade and just being. She had quite a bit else to be happy about as well; Ben Hanscom was waiting for her at the library, likely with her favorite sandwich she loves that he makes, and plenty of pages left in her current novel of choice to read. The sun was out, warming her skin and adding vitality to her freckles, and Beverly was happy. 

She always felt like a bit of a cheese when she did it, but she often took moments like this to acknowledge when she was doing well. It seemed a bit corny at first, but then it truly started to help. After a childhood of constant discomfort, it was a warranted practice, like the tension leaving an unclenched jaw. The pressures of her father and her fears had dissipated when he had been arrested; the free-floating in that period of time when she didn’t know who she would live with was unpleasant to say the least, but she reveled in the fact that she was untethered. When it was finally decided she could stay with her aunt, and her aunt made the decision to meet Bev halfway and move to Derry, she knew that her fresh start was going to change things.

And how had it. She had a boyfriend, a steady job, a loving family for once, and a great group of friends. Adulthood was shaping up to be a pleasant time for Bev, and she was determined to fight for it. So any time she could, she was going over just how good it was. Positive mind, positive life. Every day she chose to see the bright side. 

Finishing her single cigarette for the day, (limiting her bad habits was proving itself to be another source of progress in her life) she paused to put it out on the side of trash can she passed before tossing the butt inside. She was just about to turn to the crosswalk when it happened.

It felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. At first, she thought maybe she had been hit with something. She was on the outskirts of the park, so it was likely to be a frisbee or a football, thrown too fast and colliding with her solar plexus. But her vision started to cloud, and as she collapsed onto the bench next to her, she knew something was wrong. 

She saw it again; the bird.

It was all she could see. Not the streets around her, the ground beneath, or the sky above. It was just the bird, sitting in cupped hands, turning its head in the small, quick jitters the way only birds do. It looked at her, eyes a gleaming teal blue, and then took off, flying out of the frame. It was like a locked screen, a camera stuck in place on one shot. Even if she moved, or tried to look around, all she could see was one thing; the hands it left behind. 

She would recognize them any day. They were Bill’s hands.

As quickly as it came, it was gone. She blinked, taking a deep breath, and the world was back. Cars rushed by, children laughed, a bird chirped in the distance. 

 

________________________________________________________________

 

Left. Right. Down. Circle. Richie followed the path of the fly with his eyes as it buzzed around his ceiling.  

Right. Up. Diagonal. Right. The fly rubbed its hands together. Richie grabbed his pillow and dropped it on his face. 

“I’m so BOOOOOOREEDD.” He yelled, the sound muffled by the cotton. 

This brief tantrum was followed by a good thirty minutes of the Activity Shuffle. First, reading. Verdict: book too boring. Next, playing his guitar. Verdict: uncomfortable. It made his side hurt. After that, on and on through the next, cycling between doodling, eating, flipping through channels, singing showtunes obnoxiously at the top of his lungs (which only made his side hurt worse). All failing to hold more than a couple minutes of his interest. 

Richie  _ hated _ vacations. On one hand, it was immensely relieving to live unbridled by the death grip of homework, but on the other… Richie was alone. Vacations just meant hours upon hours waiting around for something to do. When they were kids, it was so easy to bike the short two blocks to Eddie’s, persuade him to go to the arcade, and then spend hours making Eddie play Pacman with him. He could even cross downtown to get to Stans, curl up on his bed, and listen to his best friend read him his favorite books. He could take the half hour to Bills, and spend the day practicing another performance for Georgie, Bill giving him a draft of a story for Richie to lend his great impressions to. But these days Stan was too busy with his college prep and Bill never answered the phone. 

He could call Bev… when she got off work in three hours. 

He tried Ben’s three times. Not home, apparently, according to the annoyed voice on the other end of the line.

He was about to dial Mike’s number when he remembered the farm didn’t have one. 

Sighing, Richie sat down in defeat at his desk. His hunched position aggravated the stitch in his side, so he leaned back into a stretch, looking at the ceiling again. The fly wasn’t there anymore.

Just as they always seemed to do these days, his thoughts wandered back to Eddie. He wanted so desperately to call, see what he was doing. It was a Saturday; surely he wouldn’t be busy. But he didn’t go to the phone, remembering Eddie’s harsh words early their junior year. 

_ “You can’t keep calling me Richie. My mom- she doesn’t want me making long phone calls anymore. It’s not personal, okay?” _

Richie was still somehow haunted by that conversation. He was always on edge when he thought about the cryptic things Eddie said about his mother. It was no secret to any of the rest of the losers that Eddie’s mom was crazy controlling, but Richie had a feeling it was way worse than Eddie would ever let on. More often than not Eddie would show up to weekend hangouts looking like he’d had seven cups of coffee and two hours of sleep. 

Richie had barely seen Eddie since graduation; hardly any of them had. The only person he was allowed to talk to on the phone for any length of time was Bev, and from what she could get out of him, the reason for his isolation was some fixation of his mother's. Ben theorized that Sonia was afraid of Eddie leaving for college, but Stan shut that down by pointing out the fact that Eddie hadn’t applied for any schools. 

Richie’s thoughts were interrupted by a sharp increase in the pain in his ribs, even though he was still in the stretch that seemed to be helping. Hissing in pain, he stood up, stretching a different way before plopping face first onto his bed. 

He missed his friends. He missed their group outings and movie nights and campfires. He knew it wasn’t over, but every minute he spent not doing those things felt like-

“Ow, fuck!” Richie clutched at his side, which was worsening by the second. Face screwed up in pain, he rolled onto his side, curling into the fetal position. He tried to even out his breaths, employing a tactic Eddie had taught him to help minimize his pain. 

Eddie, who had walked him through breathing exercises as he picked glass shards out of Richie’s knuckles-

“Holy shit fucking fuck!” A string of curses fell from Richie’s lips as the pain worsened, and spread. He could feel it in the majority of his midsection, its center migrating to somewhere near his sternum, and taking hold to stay. Richie was no stranger to discomfort, but this was another thing entirely. Hugging himself tightly, he willed it to pass, but when there was no change he looked down at himself in confusion.

His brain stopped, flat out. All rational thought left him, and for a moment there was nothing but a small quizzical notion in the back of his head, like a softly drawn question mark. 

The mark quickly grew into an interrobang as he leapt from his bed and dashed to the bathroom, throwing the lock behind him and bracing his arms on the sink. He took a moment to wince through the resurgence of the pain, before quickly grabbing his shirt collar and shucking it off over his head. 

Staring himself down in the mirror, Richie saw it fully. Or rather,  _ didn’t _ see it. Didn’t see half of his chest as a matter of fact.

A section stretching from his liver to his lungs was completely see through. Where there would have been Richie’s bare chest was the bathroom wall and the towel bar behind him. Everywhere there was pain, there was no more  _ Richie _ . 

A gasp escaped his lips as his mind tried to process what he was seeing. Once he regained control (albeit only a little) of his functions, he lifted a hand to his chest, touching the space where it used to be. His fingers collided with skin; both his hand and his chest registered the contact. But in the mirror was a hand seemingly stopped mid air, thrust up against an invisible wall. 

Curling his hand into a fist, he beat his chest, the feeling still there. In the mirror he hit an empty hole, fist stopping short. He let out a cry of shock and stumbled backwards, back hitting the wall, the towel bar jabbing into his shoulder blades, instead of going right through him. The pain in the translucent areas persisted, and Richie found himself beginning to hyperventilate. His knees gave out beneath him, back sliding down the wall as he fell into a sitting position. Looking down, he could see the corner where the floor met the wall through part of his stomach.

He wanted to scream; he wanted to puke. A million thoughts raced through Richie’s mind as he sat, shaking. The pain in his chest was constricting his breathing, and he was so lightheaded he was worried he was going to pass out. 

Just as he thought the worst of it was coming, it began to subside. The pain rapidly faded, allowing Richie enough strength to pull in long, gasping breaths. He looked down at himself; the  _ nothingness _ was receding, folding itself away and being replaced with Richie’s familiar skin, his freckles all returning and remaining in the right places. His chest and stomach were still there, the pain and the strange phenomenon dissipated. 

Still breathless and shaking, Richie quickly got to his feet. His mind raced as he scrambled to put his shirt back on.

Surely this was some kind of dream? A fever induced nightmare? He must have fallen asleep watching the fly, he told himself. 

He  _ must  _ have.

Taking the stairs two and three at a time, Richie dashed downstairs to their phone. Dialing the number he could recite backwards in his sleep, he held the phone in the crook of his neck with his shoulder as he went to the cupboard for a glass. 

“Hello?”

“Hello, Mrs. K! Eddie there?” Richie asked with a shaking voice, turning on the tap and filling his glass.

“No, Richard, I’m afraid he’s not-”

“Do you know where he is?” He asked quickly before she got the chance to start in on him.

“He went out to pick up his prescriptions at the pharmacy, he’ll be home soon.” 

Richie gulped down the water before responding. “Can you have him call me when he gets back? It’s urgent.”

“Eddie is going to be quite busy when he gets home, he has his chores, Richard.”

“I know, I know, but Mrs.- Miss Kay, its urgent.” Even over the phone she could hear him batting his eyelashes. 

“I’ll let Eddie know you called, but he won’t be able to call you back for some time.” She grumbled before hanging up on him. 

“Huh. Guess the nickname didn’t stick.” Richie muttered to himself after the line went dead. 

He drank the rest of his glass in one go, filled it again, and drank that one. No matter how hydrated he was, he couldn’t shake the terrible feeling in his bones. 

Something really had to be wrong with him.  _ Eddie would know what to do, _ he kept telling himself.  _ If only I could talk to him. _

So he left the house, to do exactly that.

 

____________________________________________________________________

 

Bill always enjoyed the pleasant ride to Mike’s family farm. The road was only ever traveled by delivery trucks or lost tourists (which were about as common as people who actually  _ wanted _ to get to Derry) and the views were phenomenal. He kept his eyes on the skyline, admiring the trees and path of the sun. Dusk would settle in in a few hours, and by then he and Stan and Mike would be holed up in the barn with the stolen beers in Bill’s backpack and no civilization in sight. He sighed, taking a deep breath of the mountain air as he pedaled on. As frustrating as this phase of his life could be, he couldn’t help but feel light at moments like these. 

Thoughts on the smell of the trees and the cool, crisp air, Bill biked right through the middle of the road, not a soul around. 

His reverie was brought short by a sharp stinging in his right pointer finger. It was quick and hot, like a bee sting. Coming to a stop on the side of the road, he lifted his finger to examine the sight, fearing the bee had left its stinger in his knuckle. 

What he saw was not a bee sting, nor a bee stinger. Where his right pointer finger used to be was an evergreen branch, small, spindly, and  _ growing out of his hand. _

Bill yelled and jerked, his brain going into overdrive. His wild maneuver sent him toppling, both he and the bike tumbling into the center of the road. Still yelling in confusion, he scrambled onto his back and held his arm as far away from him as he could. The stinging pain had faded, but the  _ fucking tiny tree branch _ where his finger had been was still very much there. 

“What the fuck?  _ What the actual fuck _ !” Bill screeched, both his stutter and volume control leaving him as his hand shook. He tried closing his fingers into a fist, willing the vision to go away, but when he bent his fingers the branch bent with them.

“Oh my god… oh my fucking god…” He repeated, watching as the branch moved along with the rest of his wiggling fingers. He repeated this, over and over again, his panic growing with every second. Suddenly the sting returned, in the base of the branch where his knuckle used to be. 

“Ah!” He hissed in pain, squeezing his eyes shut, and opening them to his same five digits that he was used to.

The empty silence of the road surrounded him as his breathing slowed. He stared, shocked to his core, at his right hand, now restored to normal. A bird cawed in the distance, bringing him back to the present. He quickly scrambled to his feet, mounted his bike, and resumed his trek to Mike’s, now at double the pace.

 

___________________________________________________________________

 

Eddie pulled his key out of his pocket with shaking hands. The rest of his walk home allowed his pulse to calm but unfortunately allowed his mind to wander as well. He could not, for the life of him, figure out why he had so strongly felt the need to run away from something when nothing had been there. 

Just as soon as he had closed the front door behind him, another was opening from the kitchen.

“Eddie bear, is that you?” 

“Yeah, mama, it's me.” He sighed, locking the deadbolt.

“Did you pick up your prescription?” Sonia said softly, approaching Eddie for a crushing hug.

“Yeah. I got it.” He managed, barely hugging his mother back. Once she released him he started immediately towards the stairs.

“Eddie. Come here for one minute.”

“Mom, I still have my chores-” Eddie sighed, turning to face her with one foot on the bottom stair.

“We need to have a talk about those friends of yours again.” Sonia glared, placing her hands on her hips.

“I wasn’t with my friends today, I just went to the pharmacy.” Eddie protested feebly.

“I know that, dear. But while you were gone that Tozier boy called you again and-”

“Wait, Richie called?” Eddie interrupted, instantly worried. Richie had been careful not to call the house after Eddie’s warning, so there had to be something wrong.

“And insisted you call him back, which you are not to do until you’ve finished your chores.” 

“Did he say what was going on?” Eddie pressed, worry growing in the pit of his stomach.

“Just that he had an urgent matter to discuss with you. You know I really am not fond of that Richard-”

“I know mom, you’ve told me.” Eddie cut her off as he began dashing up the stairs. He was determined to finish his chores as quickly as possible so he could call Richie back.

Every terrible thought possible about what could have happened to the other boy swam through his mind as he cleaned his bathroom and took out the trash. Richie had been good, so good, about not calling unless he knew Eddie’s mother wasn’t home. Something must have upset Richie deeply if he was so carelessly calling the house.

His last task consisted of gathering and sorting his laundry so his mother could start the load, then after that he was home free. He rattled around his room, grabbing stray socks from corners and throwing them into his whites bin. One had even managed to land in between the little potted succulents on his windowsill.

“Eddie-” came Sonia’s knock on the door.

“Almost have my laundry together mom, one minute.” He said as he grabbed the sock.

“We didn’t finish our conversation earlier.” She started, opening his door. “It was very rude of you to run off like that.”

“I’m sorry, I was just trying to get done quickly. I really need to return Richie’s call.” Eddie tucked his now full laundry basket under his arm, anxiously waiting for Sonia to vacate his doorway so he could get to the washer.

“I don’t think you should do that.”

“W-what?” he sputtered. “Why?”

“Eddie, sweetie, that Richie has never been a very good influence on you. One mention of him and you’re running around like some kind of clueless child. You forgot your manners and you forgot your dishes.”

_ The dishes. Crap. _

“I can do those while I’m on the phone, mom!”

“Eddie, I don’t want you calling that boy back! In fact, I don’t want you calling him ever! You’re grown up now; it's time to start acting like it.” With that she plucked the laundry basket from his hands, turning to exit his room. “You can do the dishes tomorrow, but for now I think you need to spend some time catching up on your reading.”

Eddie’s face went pale. 

“No, mom, I- I already read my book for the week.” 

“Then you can get started on the next one, sweetie. I’ll come get you at dinner time okay?” She smiled at him, her terrible, cold smile, and closed the door as she left. Eddie stood stunned as he listened to the sound of the lock turning inside its mechanism.

_ She hasn’t done that since I was fourteen. _

He swallowed back the bile that was threatening to rise, anger bubbling next to the worry. He willed himself to move, to make a noise, do something, but he knew he couldn’t argue his way out of it. He would be trapped in his room for the next five hours, at best. 

Reeling, he sat on his bed. How could his mother be so… so…  _ psychotic _ ? He was eighteen for God’s sake! She was right in assuming he’d use the phone behind her back anyways, but surely she didn’t need to  _ lock him in his room _ .

Eddie sat for a long time like that, just fuming over his mother’s audacity. He stared at his hands, which were clenched so tightly into fists that his fingernails left white crescents on his palms. He studied them, counting his breaths, trying every tactic he could to soothe the rage in his head. It didn’t subside for a long while; and Eddie didn’t see the shift as his smallest succulent changed into a flowering cactus, silently on his windowsill.

 

___________________________________________________________________

 

Ben Hanscom had been waiting at the library for nearly an hour, lunch bag beside him and book open on the desk in front of him. Ben had been waiting, and loving every second of it. The rays of sunshine outside matched his mood to the tee. His morning shift at work had been pleasant and uneventful, his date with Beverly was soon to commence, and the rest of his life? Set. Opportunity stretched out in front of him like an oceanic horizon, gleaming and vast. Graduation had brought Ben everything he wished it would; from his first kiss with Bev under the balloon drops to his acceptance letter at the University of Southern Maine. It got even better when they gave him his gap year, letting him stay in Derry with Bev and the rest of the losers while they figured their futures out. 

Not a lot was able to break Ben from his high spirits these days, but the look on Beverly’s face as she walked over to his table sure did.

“Hey, Bev, what’s going on?” Ben immediately caught her shaken demeanor, taking her hand in his as she sat down. 

“I’m… not sure, actually…” She said slowly as she hugged at her purse. 

“Did something happen at work?” Ben’s brow furrowed.

“No, actually, work was great. It’s just…” she scrunched up her face, thinking hard, but stopped after a moment. “Nothing. Nevermind.”

“It’s clearly not nothing.” Ben said gently, not wanting to push. “But if you don’t want to tell me, that’s okay.”

“No, it’s not that. It just doesn’t really make sense.”

“Well, then we can make sense of it together.” Ben smiled, trying to dispel his trepidation.

Bev watched a cloud move behind Ben’s head through the window. “I think- I had a vision.”

Ben gave her a quizzical look. “Like, psychic vision?”

“Yeah.” Beverly looked at him, confusion and timidity written all over her face. “I was walking here, from work, when…”

“Yeah?” Ben prodded. Bev looked at another cloud drifting into view. 

“It was like I couldn’t see anything else. It was just- these hands, holding a bird.” She cupped her hands in her lap, mimicking the hands she had seen. “They were… they were Bill’s, I’m sure of it.”

“So you saw Bill holding a bird.”

“Yeah, but just his hands.”

“And only that? Not anything around you?”

“Like a moving picture. Just one spot.” Bev trailed off as the sky through the window grew the bright gray of midday overcast.

“Has this happened before?” Ben said after a moment of quiet pondering.

“The vision? No. But I have seen the bird.”

“Where?” Ben perked up.

“In a dream I used to have, when I was little.”

They both sat in silence, the sunlight streaming into the room growing dimmer.

“You’re right, that didn’t make sense.” Ben attempted a laugh, earning a small smile from Beverly. 

“You’re right, it doesn’t.” She smiled and relaxed, prompting Ben to start getting their lunch set up and to tell her about his book. And just as quickly as it went, the sun came right back out to play.

 

_____________________________________________________________________

 

“You left it next to the barrel, right Stan?” Mike called over his shoulder, searching his end of the barn with his eyes.

“You’re gonna have to be more specific Mike, there’s like… twenty barrels in here.” Stan chortled as he scanned his side.

“Okay, well, I thought it was this one.” Mike turned back to face Stan, hand resting on the barrel in question.

“I’m gonna be honest with you, I don’t remember where I left the shovel. There’s a chance it’s still outside.” Stan called back, turning to face Mike from the other end of the barn. 

“You’re supposed to be the responsible one, Stan!” Mike joked as they both walked towards the double doors.

“Not since you came on the scene. I retired and passed the hat to you. Too many years of babysitting Richie. It’s my turn to have fun.” Stan smirked as he walked outside, turning to see the sought-after shovel propped up against the wall. “See! Told you I left it outside.”

“I don’t remember you doing that, but okay.” Mike rolled his eyes as he picked up the shovel. “Wheelbarrow?”

“Over th-” Stan stopped mid-point as he realized the wheelbarrow was not, in fact, in the path of his finger. “The fuck?”

“Okay Stan, it was funny the first  _ seven _ times-”

“I swear Mike, I haven’t been moving shit!”

“Then you must have been extra forgetful today, this is like the tenth time you’ve ‘misplaced’ something.” Mike laughed, using air quotes.

“Seriously, I don’t know what’s up with me.” Stan sighed, beginning to walk around the opposite side of the barn. “Did we even go over here earlier?”

Mike swung the shovel up onto his shoulder and followed Stanley. “No we didn’t. And yet…” He stopped as they came to the wheelbarrow, upside down in the soil directly in front of them. “You somehow still managed to put it here.”

Stan glared. Mike smirked.

“I swear you’re playing pranks on me.” Stan started unearthing the wheelbarrow.

“Tell it to Big Bill. I’m sure he’ll protect you from mean ole me.” Mike teased as they turned the thing over. After filling it with dirt they set out down the driveway, off to patch up some potholes on the road, hoping to catch Bill’s arrival in the process.

“He said he was coming after four, right?” Mike asked after a few silent minutes of their work.

“That’s what he told me on the phone.”

“Huh. Well it’s close to five thirty now…”

“His house is further away than mine. You’d have to add like, twenty minutes travel time.”

“Right, right, other side of town.”

A pause.

“Has Bill seemed a little off to you lately? He hasn’t seemed… himself.” Mike stopped, leaning on the shovel for support.

“I mean, he wasn’t too excited about graduating-”

Stan was cut off by a loud shout of his name, echoing through the trees. It took him a moment of confusion before looking down the road to see Bill barreling towards himself and Mike, yelling his head off.

Before Stan or Mike could respond, Bill was skidding to a stop in between them, out of breath and in a daze.

“Bill, what the-”

“Guys, guys- listen. L-listen I have to t-tell you s-s-something.”

“Slow down Bill.” Stan said calmly, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“No, n-no you d-don’t understand, something f-f-fucking crazy just happened to m-me.” Bill panted, dismounting from his bike. “I was b-biking here a-a-and-”

“Bill, deep breaths!” Mike reminded him with a firm pat on the back. “We’re not going anywhere.”

“M-Mike, would you listen? For j-just a-” Bill paused to fill his lungs with air a few more times, trying to soothe their burning walls. 

“What happened?” Stan asked calmly after Bill’s breathing slowed enough.

“M-my finger turned into a f-fucking tree.”

Another pause.

“I’m sorry, what?” Mike sputtered, his brain refusing to process the sentence.

“On the w-way over here, I was j-just b-b-biking and, and all of a sudden I f-felt this sting, on my fing-finger. I thought i-it was a bee sting, so I looked at it, a-a-and, it was a fuck-fucking tree branch! Right wh-where my finger was. Th-then I felt the, the sting again and it was g-gone!”

Stan and Mike shared a look.

“Are you drunk?” Stan asked after a moment.

“No! Stan, I’m s-serious! I’m fucking fr-fr-freaked!”

“Okay, okay.” Stan threw his hands up in surrender. “Look, its not that I think you’re a liar or anything-”

“But this is pretty hard to believe, Bill.” Mike cut in. “Are you sure this, you know, happened in real life?”

“I-its not one of my st-stories, Mike.” Bill retaliated. “This r-really happened.”

Mike and Stan shared another look, but didn’t spare one for the wheelbarrow, which was now five feet away. 

 

_____________________________________________________________________

 

After getting Bill to finally calm down and fully explain his experience, Mike and Stan were still rightfully skeptic. They decided to call off their night plans in favor of Stan taking Bill home and making sure he got proper rest. He and Mike were convinced that what Bill had seen had been the result of the past few months of self-induced mania, and while he resented the sentiment, Bill did have to admit he had been driving himself up the wall, so he caved and let Stan take him home for the night. Mike managed the rest of the chores on the farm just fine alone, though he always had more fun doing them with his friends. 

It took him until just after sundown to get everything done, and now all he had to do before heading off to bed was gather the sheep to come sleep in the pen. Picking up the old kerosene lantern that was hanging on a hook underneath the eaves of the barn, Mike attempted to light it, only to no avail. The flint mechanism seemed to be knocked out of place, as the lantern itself still had a long enough wick and plenty of oil. Mike fiddled with it in the dark for some time, trying and trying to get the damned thing to light.

Just as he was about to give up and start his task in the dark, his last frustration fueled attempt proved successful. The flame burst into life and Mike smiled to himself, triumphant. He grasped the handle of the lantern tightly in his left hand and set off to gather his flock.

 

_____________________________________________________________________

 

Derry was known for two things; the primary of which being that there was nothing there to be known for. But the secondary, a fact known all too well by its citizens, was that this was a town where nothing exciting was ever destined to happen. 

But three nights ago, in the depths of the forests surrounding Derry’s own barrens, something did happen; something very exciting indeed.


	2. chapter 1 - june

 

By the time his mother came to get him for dinner, Eddie thought he might just lose his mind. As a child he was used to the long, isolated hours alone in his room, but after having spent most of his high school career with as much freedom as someone like Sonia could allow him, the day had been akin to torture. He was conflicted on how fast he should eat his meal; on the one hand, he was reveling in the ability to venture outside of his room, but on the other he wanted to get away from his mother as quickly as possible. When they finished, she sent him back up to his room, but did not follow to lock the door. He silently thanked God (or any substitutable deity) for this as he gathered his pajamas. 

After a quick shower and shave, Eddie came back to his room, toweling his hair. He closed his door behind him and sat on the edge of the bed, hair a mess and towel in his hands. He sighed, his thoughts still plaguing him; no matter how many times he turned over the event in his mind, he could not put his finger on just what had bothered him so much. He thought maybe something had surprised him, perhaps a passerby in his peripheral, and he had just had an incredibly irrational response. But he couldn’t agree with that theory. He had never felt such a deep and penetrating paranoia before as he had felt in that moment. Worst of all, he could not identify where it originated from. 

He was stopped short from pursuing his line of thinking by a soft _ plink! _ reverberating off his windowpane. Frowning in confusion, he stood up and crossed the room to pull back his curtain. The plink repeated, a small stone hitting the glass near Eddie’s face. He recoiled in surprise, and then frustration, as he looked at the slight chip in the glass. Peering down at the ground below his window, his anger evaporated at the sight of Richie Tozier on his perfectly manicured lawn. 

Throwing the window open, Eddie called down to him in a hushed whisper. “Richie, what the fuck?”

“Eds, thank god you’re home!” Richie called back, his volume obnoxiously loud as usual. Eddie made violent shushing gestures at him, which made him drop his tone considerably. “I’ve been looking for you all day, come down and let me in.” 

“I can’t, my mom’s in the living room.”

“Doesn’t this place have a back door?”

“It sticks, she’ll hear it.”

Sighing, Richie lolled his head back. “Guess I’ll have to do this the hard way.” He grumbled, more to himself as he headed to the drain pipe that was flush with Eddie’s house. 

“Rich- Richie, what in the fuck are you doing-”

“Relax Eds,” Richie huffed a bit as he pulled himself up. “I’ve got this.”

“If you fucking break my house, Tozier-”

“It’s fine!” Richie protested again, about three quarters of the way up. “Now either move aside or give me hand, will ya?” Eddie, of course, reached out to pull Richie in through the small space the window allowed. They got him in up to his midsection okay, but when Eddie stepped back to allow more room, Riche very gracelessly half-fell onto the floor, his gangly limbs catching him as some of Eddie’s potted plants crashed to the floor. 

“Probably should have moved those before I came in, eh Eds?” Richie gave him a cheeky smile from his awkward position, his face level with a broken pot, the dirt from the plant strewn on his left cheek. 

“Fuck you Tozier.” Eddie griped, crossing his arms. “I’m not helping you up now.”

“What, like this is my fault?” Richie quipped back, turning haphazardly to tumble into an upright position.

“I didn’t say you could climb through my window.” Eddie glared down at Richie, who was now sat cross-legged on the floor in front of him, small clumps of dirt and a goofy grin on his face.

“Well you didn’t stop me, so…”

“Rich, why are you here. And why did you call earlier?” Eddie asked bluntly, afraid he wouldn’t be able to get a straight answer out of Richie if they kept up the banter for too long. 

“Can the answer be to see my Eddie Spaghetti? I missed you today.” 

“Don’t- okay you know what, no, that can’t be the answer. You know you’re not supposed to call my house, and if my mom finds you up here, we’re both fucked-”

“Why is that?” Richie cut in, standing up to be even (as he could be, the giant asshole) with Eddie.

“Because! You know how she is-” Eddie uncrossed his arms, gesturing broadly with them.

“No, I know she’d flip about  _ this _ , dumbass, I’m asking why I haven’t been allowed to call you.”

The tone in Richie’s voice made Eddie stop short. For once, it was relatively serious. 

“Don’t change the subject.” He narrowed his eyes.

“I would say this is relative to the subject.” Richie countered, eyes narrowing to match Eddie’s, mockingly of course.

“I’m not going to get into it right now.” Eddie gave up, looking down at his feet defensively.

“Then I’m not going to tell you my thing.” Richie shrugged, crossing to Eddie’s bed and sitting on it, legs crossed and propped up on his outstretched arms. 

“Why the fuck not, Richie, I’ve been worried about you all day!” Eddie turned to face him, arms flying around again. 

“Look, Eds, what I have to share is a tale most surreal. There’s a high likelihood you’ll not believe me.” Richie said in a mock-posh flourish. “So if you want to hear my wails of woe, you must repay me with one equally brash admission.” He looked Eddie dead in the eyes, expression mismatched with his tone. 

“You’re not fucking around.”

“No. I’m not.”

The two sat staring at each other, a pact forming.

“Fine.” Eddie conceded, moving to sit next to Richie. The other boy immediately shrunk the amount of space he was taking up, allowing more room for Eddie on the bed. “... My mom isn’t letting me talk on the phone with anyone, and when she does, it’s only for a brief time.” He confessed in a small voice. 

“Yeah, I gathered that, Doctor K. Why.” Richie looked intently at him. He knew he was being a little unfair, forcing Eddie into an admission. But as his friend he was genuinely concerned, and a little bit of stalling was helping him keep from exploding. 

Eddie refused to make eye contact. “You know she’s never liked you guys.”

“Oh I am  _ fully _ aware of that.” Richie snorted.

“She thinks I should be more ‘adult’, and I guess that means I should have more ‘adult’ friends.” He said bitterly, complete with angry air quotes. The sight would have been a little funny to Richie on a different day, but in this moment it actually made him a bit upset to see Eddie so sour.

“So she’s trying to get you to ghost us?”

“Yeah. You, in particular.” Eddie said quietly, still not looking at him. 

“Well, that’s no shock either.” Richie chortled. “But that can’t be all there is to it.” He said after a moment of thought. “She still lets you talk to Bev, right?”

“Yeah.” Eddie said, even quieter.

“That’s fuckin weird. I thought she hated Bev. Thought she was a slut.”

“She did. But after news broke of what her dad did, I guess she was a little forgiving about it…”

“I doubt it.” Richie shot a look at Eddie. “Eddie. Why doesn’t she let you talk to us guys anymore.” He said in a low but firm tone.

“She thinks I’m gay.” Eddie barely managed, his voice a whisper.

“Are you?” Richie matched his volume. Eddie finally looked at him, eyes wide, expression almost unreadable. He was silent for a moment, and then it was over. 

“One admission per day Tozier. Your turn.” He said, his normal, albeit diminutive, tone returning. 

“Eds-” Richie protested.

“No. Conversation over. Why did you call me earlier?” Eddie pushed, looking more defensive than Richie had ever seen him. He may be an out of control garrulous kid, but he knew where to stop with Eddie. Sighing in defeat, he sat up, his shoulder brushing against Eddie’s and resting there. 

“Like I said, this is gonna sound crazy.”

“I don’t care. You owe me.”

“... I called you because I didn’t know who the fuck else to talk to about this. And I swear to you, what I’m gonna tell you isn’t a lie, like it actually fucking happened, at least I think it did-”

“Richie.” Eddie placed a hand on his arm. “Just fucking say it.”

Richie paused, trying to think of the best way to tell his story. “... I was at home, all morning. Bored out of my mind, nothing to do. While I was fucking around, trying to find something to do, my side started hurting. I thought maybe it was that thing you told me about, gas or whatever-”

“Yeah, gas bubbles, they do that.” 

“Right. Yeah, gas. Anyway, I thought it was gas but it wouldn’t go away and it kept getting worse, like it hurt so fucking bad.”

“Rich, it sounds like you just had a bad stomach cramp.”

“No Eds, listen, it wasn’t that. I literally was in so much pain I couldn’t move, just laying curled up in my bed. That's when I first noticed it. My shirt was all bunched up, and when I looked down, I…”

Eddie looked at Richie’s midsection with worry. “You.. is there something wrong with your… stomach?” Eddie asked, desperately confused.

“At first I thought I imagined it, but it wouldn’t go away.” Richie barrelled on. “So I mustered what strength I could and went to the bathroom, you know, to look at myself in the mirror. The one in my room never got fixed, by the way.” Richie added with a nervous laugh. Eddie’s concern grew with Richie’s countenance. Every word seemed to be sending him closer to a nervous breakdown. Eddie gently raised his arm to rub circles on Richie’s back, something he knew well would help calm his friend. 

“Go on.” Eddie said calmly.

“So I took my shirt off, right? To get a better look at it. And it was- Eds, I was- I was  _ gone _ .”

Eddie shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

“A whole- section, of my chest.” Richie quickly traced an outline of the area on himself. “Eddie it was fucking  _ see-through _ . Transparent. Invisible.” He whispered, looking at Eddie with desperation. “Everywhere it hurt, it had gone fucking  _ clear _ .”  

Eddie couldn’t keep his look of disbelief off his face. “Richie, what the  _ fuck _ -”

“I’m not lying Eddie, I swear. I’m not fucking lying. I don’t know what the fuck happened to me. But it went away, like a couple minutes later. The pain went away and then I was back, look!” Richie quickly shucked his shirt off, ignoring Eddie’s squeaked protests. “Nothing!”

Eddie gulped, staring at Richie’s freckled chest. “Nothing.” He agreed quietly.

“I can’t make heads or tails of it Eds, it’s never happened to me before. I was so freaked, and I know I wasn’t supposed to call your house but, I just- I had to talk to you about it. I spent the whole day looking for you around town after you didn’t call back. I knew your mom would keep you from it.”

“Why did you come here last, dumbass?” Eddie challenged jokingly. Richie blinked at him. 

“She said you were out getting your prescription, and I know that used to be our code, so…”

Eddie went red. “Oh. Right. No, I was actually out picking up my meds. But- good guess.” He mumbled. 

“Look, I’m not joking around with you. This really happened. And I have no idea what to do about it.” Richie said, toying with the fabric of the shirt he still held in his hands.

“Well, I don’t know what you want me to do about it.” Eddie said grumpily, his head swimming a bit.  _ Was it hot in here? _ “I’ve certainly never heard of that as a symptom for anything.”

Richie looked at him pleadingly. “You believe me, right?” 

Eddie melted. “Yeah. I do.” He said quietly after a moment. 

“Really?” Richie perked up, turning slightly to face him, one leg resting up on the bed between them. “Damn Eds, I thought it was gonna take a lot more convincing, and I hadn’t even brought out the puppy dog eyes yet!”

_ Those weren’t the puppy dog eyes? _

“I do, asshole, don’t make me take it back.” He griped. “I- had something weird happen to me today too…” 

“Like what?” Richie asked, perplexed. 

“Well, nothing quite that painful, but… when I was walking back from the pharmacy, I got this feeling. This terrible, overwhelming feeling of dread,  _ fear _ , and… well, I took off running. Just ran through town. I could’ve sworn someone was chasing me but… I tripped, and when I got back up no one was there. No one had been there the whole time. But it totally felt like there had.”

Richie furrowed his brow. “That doesn’t sound like the same level of weird as mine.”

“No, no I don’t think it is. But… I don’t know Richie, it was fucking weird. I’ve been thinking about it all day. I can’t figure out for the life of me why I got so scared in the first place. It just washed over me, with no warning or stimulus or anything.” Eddie sighed. “I don’t know. But I believe you.” 

“...Geez Eds. Aren’t we a pair.” They both fell silent, staring at the floor and pondering the story of the other. “Eddie?” Richie said after a moment, in his Serious Voice. 

“Yeah?”

“Can I stay over tonight? I know, I know, before you protest- your mom totally won’t find out, okay? I’m great at hiding.” Richie capped his plea off with a wink, and something in his demeanor made Eddie fold. He missed their sleepovers like crazy, and he was dying to spend time with his best friend. As scared as he was of his mom finding out, he decided it was a safe enough time to risk it. She had an early shift the next day, so they could get away with oversleeping as long as she didn’t come to check on him. 

“Fine. But-” Eddie held up a finger as Richie started to bounce in celebration. “You have to clean that shit up.” He pointed at the pile of broken potted plants on his floor. “And buy me new ones.”

Richie smiled as he pulled his shirt back on. “Anything for you, Eddie Spaghetti.” He stood to go grab the trash can as Eddie rolled his eyes and fell backwards dramatically onto his pillows. Richie then proceeded to scoop ceramic shards and root clusters into the trash bin. 

“Damn shame about these, they were coming along nicely.” He noted, dropping another healthy agave into the bin. “Hey, I didn’t know you got a cactus, this one was nice.” Richie called over his shoulder as the flowering cactus found itself in the bin as well. Eddie’s head shot up, frowning at Richie and the bin. 

He hadn’t. 

 

______________________________________________________________________________

  
  


“Ben! Phone!”

Ben groaned, face screwed up as he was awakened from his deep sleep. Stretching an arm out, he pulled the covers off as he sat up on the edge of his bed. A quick glance at the clock told him it was half past eight, and he yawned.  _ Too damn early to be up. _

“Coming!” He called back, pushing out of bed and shuffling into his slippers. He walked sleepily to the hallway outside their kitchen, his mom holding the phone out to him absentmindedly as she focused on what she was cooking. Taking the phone from her and holding it to his ear, he spoke. “Hello?”

“Hello? Ben?”

“Yeah. That you Stan?”

“Yeah. Listen, I need you to help me call an emergency meeting. I can’t get ahold of Richie and Bev never gave me her new-”

“Wait wait wait, slow down. It’s too early. Emergency meeting? What for?”

“It’s about Bill.”

“Bill? What’s wrong with Bill?” Ben’s stomach churned, remembering vaguely what Bev had said about seeing his hands. 

“I’d rather we all discuss it in person, hence the meeting. His house, after dinner today, okay?”

“This is awful cryptic Stan…” 

“I know Ben. But seriously, this is kind of an in-person thing…”

Ben sighed, gazing at the ceiling. “Okay. Who do you need me to call, Bev?”

“Yeah. And are you gonna see Mike at work today?”

“No, I’m off, but I can swing by.” 

“Okay. I’m gonna call Eddie and see if he knows where Richie is, he’s not answering his phone.” 

“Alright. I’ll let you know when I’ve gotten everyone. And Stan?”

“Yeah?”

“Bill’s okay, right? He’s not like… in trouble or anything?”

“No, Ben, nothing like that. It’s, uh, it’s pretty strange. You’ll understand when he tells you.”

“Okay, fair enough. Are you with him today?”

“Yeah, I’ll be at his house. Call us here.” 

“Will do. See you, oh, around seven?”

“Try closer to six.” 

 

____________________________________________________________________

 

“Eddie. Eds. Spaghetti Man. Hey. Hey, wake up.”

“Hnnnng…”

“I know, I know. Tired boy. But your phone is ringing. I’d answer it, but I don’t think your mom will appreciate the concierge service.”

“Mmmnnshe’ll getit…” 

“Well, it’s rang three times through and she hasn’t, so I wouldn’t put money on it. And I don’t exactly wish to expose myself, dearest Eddison, lest we be found out.”

“Gdamnit… fck… fuck. Okay.” 

Eddie rolled over to see Richie, elbows resting on the edge of his bed, on his knees and looking intently at Eddie. The shrill sound of the phone was quickly pulling him out of his slumber, much to his dismay.

“There’s my Spaghetti Man. Mornings are rough, believe me, but you gotta get the phone. Otherwise I’m gonna go a little nuts. It’s been driving me bonkers.” Richie smiled, small and soft, but his irritation was clear on his face. Their phone was annoying as fuck. 

Eddie sighed, throwing his covers off angrily. “God dammit.” Richie quickly scooted out of the way so Eddie could jump out of bed. He padded out into the hall, and after a quick scope, he called back to Richie. “It’s clear. She’s gone.” Richie followed down the stairs, and when they finally reached the bottom the phone stopped ringing. 

“Oh, for fucks sake.” Eddie sighed, leaning against the wall.

“I’ll bet you five bucks they call right back.”

The phone rang again.  
“Technically I did not agree to that, I owe you nothing.” Eddie blurted before rushing to the phone. “Hello?” He said, annoyed, as he picked it up.

“Eddie? Thank God, I was about to give up on you.”

“Stan?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Listen, is Richie with you?”

“Yeah, he’s here. What’s going on?”

“I’m calling an emergency meeting-” Stan began, just as Richie blurted “Oh, is it for me?” and yanked the phone from Eddie’s hands.

“Hello? Secret admirer?”

“Tozier, for christ’s sake, why the fuck are you at Eddie’s?”

“The question, Stan the man, is why the fuck aren’t you at Eddie’s? We’re having a party, a bash without you!”

Stan could hear Eddie’s angry “No we are fucking not!” from over the line. “Beep beep Richie. Put Eddie back on the line.”

“Why, not happy to speak to me? I thought you loved my dulcet tones.”

“No, because I need to speak to someone who’s going to be serious right now.” 

“I can be serious, Stanley, and frankly I’m insulted.” Richie fake pouted. 

“Okay, well, seriously please inform Mr. Kaspbrak that we are having an emergency meeting tonight. At Bill’s house, six o’clock.”

Richie paused, his demeanor dropping. “What happened?”

“Something is going on with Bill. He wants us all there to talk about it.”

“Something like… what? Is he in trouble?”

“No, he’s not- look,” Stan said, clearly exasperated. “It’s weird and abnormal and way too long of a thing to say over the phone, okay? Just show up, and make sure Eddie’s with you.”

“Geez, alright, your  _ majesty _ . We’ll be there.” Richie huffed. “Anything else? Would you like me to butter your crumpet while I’m at it?”

“Oh fuck off, Tozier.” The line clicked.

“What? What was that about?” Eddie pleaded from over Richie’s shoulder.

“Mother fucker hung up on me.” Richie sighed. It was more than a bit out of character; despite their constant bickering, Stan was one of his best friends, and hadn’t ever been so rude with him on the phone before.

“Did he say they were calling a meeting?” 

“Yeah, at Bill’s. Tonight, six o’clock.”

“I don’t think I can go. My mom-”

“Will have to suck it up, you’re going.” Richie gave him another hardened look. “Stan said something’s going on with Bill, something weird- I mean, he was really upset. Fuckin hung up on me over it.”

“You’re gonna whine about that all day, aren’t you.” 

“All day for the next two, just to spite you. But you really do have to come. I think- I think Bill might be… I don’t know.”

“You don’t think it’s…” Eddie trailed off, suddenly going white.

It took him a second, but Richie’s mind caught up with Eddie’s train of thought. 

“Oh God.” 

_____________________________________________________________________________

  
  


“So Stan wouldn’t tell you what this is about, no hints, just Bill needs us?” Mike inquired as his truck blundered down Bev’s gravelly driveway. 

“That’s all I could get out of him.” Ben piped up from the passenger seat. “He was being vague as hell, wouldn’t tell me any details.”

“But Bill’s okay?” Beverly asked, gripping the handles of her purse in trepidation.

“Apparently.” Ben shrugged. They rode in silence the rest of the way to Bill’s house, each silently wondering what the hell they were in for when they got there. Stan’s SUV was already parked in the driveway, but there was no sign of Richie and Eddie’s bikes. Mike parallel parked on the street, killing the engine as Ben and Beverly climbed out. After the truck was locked up, the three went up to the door. Before they could even knock, Stan was throwing open the front door. 

“Thank God you guys are here.”  
“Stan, what’s going on?” Bev pressed.

“I’ll tell you when Richie and Eddie get here.”

“Where’s Bill’s parents?” Mike said, noticing the lack of the Denbrough family vehicle in the yard.

“Georgie had a school play tonight. They’ll be out for awhile.”

“Georgie’s doing a play and Bill’s missing it?” Ben asked, incredulous. “That’s not like him at all.”

“I know. That’s how bad this is. I’ve never seen him like this before.”

“Wait- Stan. Please tell me this isn’t about what he said last night.”

Before Stan could respond, Bev was cutting in. “The fuck did he say last night?”

Mike sighed, leaning on the door frame. “He was supposed to come help Stan and me with the chores at the farm last night. When he finally showed up, like an hour late might I add, he was wigging the fuck out about some shit with his finger.”

Ben and Bev shared a look. “What about his finger?” Ben gave Mike a quizzical look.

“Why don’t you let him tell you himself.” Stan said before Mike could continue. “Yes, Mike, it’s about last night. I don’t think he was lying. He wouldn’t let me go home after I dropped him off, he was so freaked out.”

Mike snickered. “You and I both know he didn’t want you to stay because of that.”

Stan went red. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. What am I missing here?” Beverly asked, looking from Stan to Mike. 

“Rich- Rich you’re gonna fucking- stop parking your bike behind me!” The three on the porch turned around just in time to see Eddie nearly toppled over by Richie’s cruiser, which the taller boy had left right in the path of the smaller one. 

“Steady Eddie!” Richie laughed as he hooked his arms in Eddie’s armpits and hauled him into an upright position. “Too much to drink?”

Eddie’s angry response was cut off by Stan. 

“There you are. Come on, hurry, we need to talk.” Stan stood aside so all the losers could enter, each with worried looks on their faces. “He’s in his room.” They went single file up the stairs, Richie the first to the door. He knocked lightly, and when he heard a feeble “come in”, he pushed the door open. 

“Big Bill! There’s our guy.” Richie started in his cheery tone, a bit quieter than usual. “What’s going on with you bud?”

“We’ve been worried sick all day.” Bev said as she followed him in. 

Bill sat on his bed, looking like a wreck. His hair was a mess and there were huge bags under his eyes, like he’d barely slept the night before. He was downright  _ jittery _ \- a word hardly ever used to describe Bill Denbrough. 

“Jesus Bill, we know you’ve got a stutter but you don’t have to act like one.” Richie joked, noticing his friends jerky movements. 

“H-hi guys.” Bill said weekly, ignoring Richie’s comment, as everyone filed into the room. Stan closed the door and came to sit on the bed next to Bill, placing a hand on his shoulder. Everyone took their seats on the floor, with the exception of Mike, who sat backwards in the office chair. 

“Do you want to tell them what you told Mike and I, Bill?” Stan prompted softly. Richie shifted his weight nervously, sharing a look with Eddie. 

“You guys p-promise not to l-l-laugh at me?” Bill muttered feebly.

“Of course not!” Ben offered over a chorus of agreements. 

“Okay. Well. Here goes.” He swallowed nervously, glancing around at everyone. “I- I th-think something happened to me.”

“What kind of something?” Eddie asked softly.

“I think- I th-think it has to d-do with the other n-night. At the quarry.”


	3. chapter 2 - june

Filtered, fading, late summer sunlight drifted lazily through Bill’s bedroom window, landing lightly on Mike’s lap. He looked down at it; it stared back at him. He could feel the gentle heat seeping through his jeans, warming his thigh. He could feel his guilt creeping in, too. 

All night Bill had been up worrying himself into a frenzy. The wear was clear on his face; and Stan’s, for that matter. And here was Mike, having slept perfectly soundly.

Could he be blamed for not worrying too much? Sure, Bill’s story had been frighteningly abnormal. But was he wrong in assuming it was only a result of Bill’s continued self-isolation? He had hardly been out at all since graduation. He rarely called, rarely joined in on group outings, rarely connected. Hell, Mike couldn’t remember the last time he and Bill had gone on a bike ride, just the two of them. It was no secret he was stressed over the weight of their impending adulthood. They all were. But Bill especially had been crumbling under the pressure. Mike had just thought… well, he didn’t know what he thought. 

But it certainly hadn’t helped.

“... And you’re sure this wasn’t some kind of hallucination. You didn’t smell anything funny, or eat something you usually don’t-?” Bev was asking politely as Mike tuned back into the conversation. 

“I’m s-sure.”

“Dude, someone could have slipped you drugs. It happens.” Richie chimed in from the floor, a little too hopefully.

“What the fuck Richie, nobody does that.” Eddie gave him a reproachful look. 

“No it totally does, it happened to my cousin once. Someone put acid in his sandwich. He’s colorblind now because of it.”

“Rich, I don’t- wait, he’s fucking colorblind now?” Eddie turned to face Richie fully.

“Bad trips man, they fuck you up.” Richie shrugged. Bill was white.

“... Thanks for that, Richie, but I don’t think your story is helping.” Stan glared at Richie, both hands now on Bill’s shoulders to steady him. 

“Continue, Bill.” Ben said quietly, the only one who hadn’t yet interrupted the countenance of Bill’s experience. 

“A-a-anyways… After the s-sting and after I f-fell, it st-stayed like that for a minute or so… and th-then there w-w-w-” He gave up on the word with a sigh.

“You’re okay, keep going.” Stan reminded him calmly when it seemed like Bill would not try starting his sentence again.

“Th-there was another st-sting. And then it went away.” 

Eddie gulped, then leaned in to Richie to whisper in his ear.

“I think that’s very much your level of weird.” 

Richie was visibly shaken.

Mike wondered what the fuck that was about.

“Bev.” Ben said suddenly, coming out of his contemplation and preventing Mike from interrogating Eddie and Richie. “Do you think this has anything to do with what you told me?” He looked at her searchingly.

She thought for a moment, weighing her words.

“Possibly.”

Stan shot her an inquiring gaze. “What is he on about?”

“I had a vision yesterday.” Bev said plainly.

“A vision.” Mike said from his chair behind her, his tone skeptic. 

“Yeah.” She shrugged. “It’s never happened quite like this before, but… when I was a kid my family thought I was a prophet. I used to have these dreams, and-”

“A prophet?!” Richie leaned over Eddie, placing a hand on the other boys knee to steady himself, and looked at Bev incredulously. “What in the fuck does that mean?”

“Exactly what you think it means, Richie. I had prophetic dreams. It stopped happening after I was in like, middle school, but they used to be fairly frequent.”

“Did you have another one?” Stan asked before Richie could open his mouth again. 

“Not while I was asleep.” 

Silence fell, and Mike could feel his brow knitting together in skepticism. He tried to stop the thoughts kicking at his mind; everything in him was screaming to discredit all this nonsense. The things they were talking about were… impossible! As much as he loved his friends, he had to say it, they were- 

_ No. Be more open. _

“So you had a vision. And you know it was real.” Mike said, trying to keep his tone neutral and not accusatory. Bev nodded at him over her shoulder. “Okay, then, what was it of?”

“It was… well it was Bill’s hands, cupped, holding a bird.”

Mike blinked.

“What kind of bird?” Stan asked.

Richie snorted. 

“Pfft, first thing he asks about a psychic fucking vision is the bird breed, whatta nerd-”

“Beep beep, Richie.” Came Eddie’s grumbled retort.

“I don’t know, like a finch or something. A small, brown one.”

Bill looked like he was gonna hurl.

“Hey, do you need some air?” Eddie placed a hand on Bill’s knee, immediately sensing his change in demeanor. Bill shook his head, but didn’t open his mouth. 

“Bev and I tried to come up with some idea of what it meant, but, we couldn’t think of anything.” Ben continued when they all felt Bill wasn’t about to keel over. 

“But you think it could have to do with Bill’s finger.” Mike sat back, crossing his arms.

“There’s a chance.” Ben supplied.

Richie had been uncharacteristically quiet throughout the conversation, his few comments surprisingly far between (at least compared to how much he normally interjected). Mike had pretended not to notice, but now he could practically see the sweat on his brow. Richie was shifting uncomfortably, and Eddie was watching him like a hawk, concern written on his face. But there was something else there too… 

“Around what time of day did this happen, Bev?” Eddie asked suddenly, surprising them all.

“Just after I got off work. About noon, twelve thirty?” 

Eddie gave Richie a look. “And you, Bill?”

“A-around the same time…” Bill said quietly, locking eyes with Beverly.

“Rich.” Eddie said quietly, solemnly placing his hand over Richie’s on the floor. Richie swallowed, shakily raising a hand to fix his glasses. 

“Okay, Richie. What the fuck is going on with you.” Both Richie and Eddie’s faces shot around, looking at Mike with wide eyes. “You’re wigged. Something to share?”

Stan, Ben and Bev all looked to the boys confused. Bill still looked visibly shaken by Beverly’s story. Eddie looked incredibly guilty, clearly fighting the urge to blurt something out. Richie gave Mike a strange look, almost like he was fighting back the fear bubbling to the surface of his emotions. The two boys looked at each other, Eddie raising a goading eyebrow. Richie shook his head acutely, shrugging and sitting back.

“Nothing to share Mike, my boy, I’m all aces.” 

“No, you’re not Richie. Spill.” Stan glared at him. Richie stared back, challenging him. 

Richie lost.

“Okay, okay.” He sighed, shifting his weight and settling with his legs crossed, leaning on Eddie. “Something happened to me yesterday too.”

“Same time of day?” Ben said, turning to face Richie better, leaning against the bedpost at the foot of Bill’s bed. 

“Yeah.” Richie nodded.

“Do you want me to tell them?” Eddie asked, meeting Richie’s gaze.

“Go for it, spaghetti-o.” He said in a sullen tone.

_ Oh, this oughtta be good. _

 

___________________________________________________________________

  
  


By the time Eddie had finished recounting Richie’s story, Stan’s head was spinning. The new revelations of the afternoon had made him feel a little better about the absurdity of Bill’s situation, but it had only made him more worried about the group as a whole. Quite a few of them were experiencing strange phenomena, and all of them were freaked. Stan, for once in his life, was totally unsure of what to do. Usually he was the level-headed one, the best at taking initiative. But with this… he had no idea what to do.

“Wait, let’s- let’s think about this.” Mike started, standing up. “We have to go over our options. Would you say we should start with figuring out the cause, yeah?” There was a chorus of agreement.

_ Thank god for Mike. _

“So Bill says he didn’t eat anything weird. But what about Richie and Bev?”

“I only had diner food. My usual.”

“I hadn’t eaten anything at that point.”

“You- did you have any food before you got to my house?” Eddie snapped.

“Uh, no?”

“Richie, you went all day without eating?! You got to my house at like, midnight!”

“Relax Eds, I do this all time-”

“ _ You do this all the time-!? _ ”

“What about smells.” Mike interjected, giving Eddie an annoyed look. “Literally, anything out of the ordinary you can think of.”

“Other than my fucking ghost of breakfasts past experience you mean?” Richie quipped. “Maybe I had some bunk pancakes, maybe that's why my fucking  _ stomach disappeared _ !”

Stan was a little shocked at the harshness of the comment. “We’re just trying to figure out what the fuck happened, you don’t have to be a dick about it.” 

Richie looked at his lap ashamed. “Sorry.” He mumbled. 

The group sat in silence, contemplating, a million thoughts racing through the stagnant air in Bill’s bedroom.

One of them, coagulating, dread filling the room as the lightbulb clicked for each of them. 

“You don’t think…” Bev said, looking up at Stan and Bill.

“Of course I think.” Stan said after a moment. “How could we be so stupid, of course its-”

“Wait wait wait, you guys aren’t serious, are you?” Mike sighed. “There’s no way-” 

“Do you really think there’s any other explanation, Mike?” Ben rejoined.

Eddie and Richie shared a look that ended in the both of them groaning, Eddie resting his head in his hands. 

“What? What’s wrong with you two?”

“I can’t believe we didn’t think of that.” Eddie muttered. “For hours we kept going over it, and it never crossed our minds.”

“Shoulda been the first thing that came up.” Richie flopped onto his back, staring at the ceiling. 

“Do you realize what you’re even insinuating here, guys?” Mike started pacing. “The idea that, well,  _ that _ \- had anything to do with this crazy shit? It’s un-fucking-believable.”

“And what else was it, huh? We all saw it, we all knew something was up, it has to be the reason!” Stan said, standing up. Bill glanced up at his back, almost whining at the loss of his friend (that he had been leaning heavily on) next to him.

“There’s got to be some kind of connection.” Ben stood as well, walking to the window. “I mean, I don’t know about you guys, but the memory is.. Kinda fuzzy for me. I can’t really think of the specifics of what happened but… that’s gotta be it.”

Bill looked down at his sheets. “I don’t really r-r-remember either.” 

“So even if this thing did something to us, how the fuck does that work?” Eddie asked, stress clear on his face. Richie noticed and raised his hand to rub circles on the smaller boys back. 

“Beats me.” Mike groaned. “But I seriously doubt it.”

“I think we should go back.” Bev said, determined.

“Are you insane?” Eddie looked over at her. “We should never go back!”

“Hey, why not, Eds.” Richie said, sitting up and putting an arm around Eddie. “It could help us find answers.”

“Well you can go without me.” Eddie pouted.

“Hell n-no.” Bill said firmly, his voice finally regaining a normal volume. “We have to go back together. A-all of us.” 

“There’s no way I’m doing that!” Eddie shot up, pushing Richie away. “That _ thing _ gave me the fucking creeps and I don’t want to be near it again! If it’s- if it’s what did this then we should stay away from it! We’re lucky we didn’t die!” 

“Eddie-”

“Don’t Eddie me, Bev! I’m serious, I’m not going!”

Silence fell. 

Richie got up. 

He and Eddie shared a look.

Eddie lost.

________________________________________________________________________

  
  


_ Mike’s old Toyota trundled down the gravel logging road, the radio playing softly over the slight breeze and the crunch of the tires. Bill had brought his dad’s favorite Blues Brothers cassette, and the opening notes of “B” Movie Boxcar Blues filled the cab of the truck. Bill sat center, between their trusty chauffeur and Stan, who maintained that riding in the back of a truck would be his cause of death someday. In the back, Richie and Eddie took the left side, while Ben and Bev huddled together under their picnic blanket across from them. The picnic in question, a large woven basket taken from Mrs. Denbrough’s inexplicably large collection, filled with snacks and homemade sandwiches, sat in the bed of the truck between them. Bev and Richie were passing a cigarette back and forth across the space, and Eddie scowled everytime Richie got up to grab it from her, peeved at the loss of the heat. He was stupidly wearing only a thin grey cotton hoodie, and he was mourning his thicker coat still hanging up at home. When the cigarette was done, Richie settled in for the length of the ride against Eddie, resting a head on his shoulder and looping his arm through Eddie’s. He tried to ignore the heat in his cheeks. They were just chapped from the wind.  _

 

_ _____________________________________________________________________ _

 

_ “C’mon jackasses, I told you it’s just right around here!” _

_ “Tozier, slow the fuck down, you’re gonna get yourself killed!” _

_ “Relax, Staniel, I’m a professional.” _

_ “Professional asshole.” Eddie mumbled, struggling to find a good grip. _

_ “Professional rock climber first, professional asshole second.” He winked over his shoulder at Eddie, disappearing as he crested the bluff. _

_ “What’s so important that we have to climb all the way up there?” Ben called from the back of the group, groaning at the ascent ahead of him. _

_ “I don’t kn-know, we’ve lost him.” Bill called back, backpack hanging loosely off his shoulders and threatening to fall in Stan’s face. _

_ “Just- keep going you guys.” Mike said through gritted teeth, hauling himself up where Richie had just vanished.  _

_ “I don’t even wanna see this dumb thing anyways.” Ben sighed, climbing up after Beverly, who was shyly giggling at Ben’s protests. _

_ Richie’s curls popped out over the edge, followed by his stupid shit-eating grin, right in Eddie’s line of sight as he reached the top. Eddie shrieked and lost his grip, hands flailing as he started going backwards. Richie reached down and grabbed his wrists.  _

_ “Jesus Christ Eds, you should be more careful down there.” _

_ “Oh fuck you, Tozier, you scared me!” Bill and Stan shared a bought of laughter below them. “It’s not funny, Denbrough!” Eddie glared down at them. They kept laughing anyway. _

_ Richie proceeded to pull Eddie up over the edge. He had brought them to a grassy bluff, which stretched on to the edges of a forest, a good mile or so past them. The open field was beautiful. Eddie stared in wonder up at the open expanse of the night sky. It was a clear Saturday night; by now it had passed midnight and would count as early Sunday. He walked forward, pulling the sleeves of his sweater back down and shivering lightly. He was mesmerized, as the rest of the losers one by one climbed over the edge to join him, Mike, and Richie.  _

_ “Wow.” Beverly sighed, looking up at the sky. “This is a much better view than the quarry.” _

_ “Please tell me you didn’t drag us all the way up here for the view.” Stan glared at Richie, who was looking frantically around the clearing.  _

_ “No, Stan, I told you, I saw it land over here.” Richie responded distractedly. “It’s gotta be up here somewhere.” _

_ “So to answer your question Stan, no, we came up here to chase Richie’s falling star.” Bev mocked, rolling her eyes as they all started to follow Richie, who had started trudging across the clearing. _

_ “The one only he saw?” Mike laughed with her. _

_ “Hey, I saw it too.” Eddie said defensively.  _

_ Bill and Stan shared a look. Bill shrugged. “I’ll a-a-admit it. I saw it t-too.”  _

_ “I think we would have felt it if something crash-landed this close to us, Rich.” Ben mumbled. “Besides-” _

_ Everyone fell silent as they reached a downward curve in the clearing. As the plain tilted down towards the treeline, they came to a halt at the top of the hill. _

_ Down where the grass plateaued into flatland and met the trees, was a deep, gaping hole in the earth, a blueish green light pulsating from its center. _

_ “Holy shit.” About half of them muttered simultaneously. _

_ “HA!” Richie turned to face the group from his end on the left. “I fucking told you!”  _

_ And then he promptly ran all the way down the fucking hill towards it. _

_ “Richie, what the fuck?!” Eddie screeched after him, torn between fear and frustration, afraid to move. Bill and Mike quickly looked at each other before running down after Richie. Ben and Bev joined hands and followed down at a cautious walk, leaving Eddie and Stan at the top of the hill. _

_ “God they’re so fucking- this is- this is stupid! We shouldn’t be going near that thing!” _

_ “You’re preaching to the choir here, Eddie. No fucking way I’m going down there.” _

_ “Guys! GUYS GET THE FUCK BACK UP HERE!” _

_ “QUIT YOUR SCREECHING EDS! THIS THING’S FUCKIN LEGIT, GET DOWN HERE!” _

_ “NO FUCKING WAY!” Eddie shook his head violently, his breathing growing quicker. “I’M STAYING RIGHT HERE!” _

_ “SUIT YOURSELF, PUSSY!” _

_ “Beep beep, Richie.” Mike shot him a look as they all formed a circle around the hole.  _

_ “Sorry, sorry, I just wish they’d come down here and look at this shit!” _

_ “They’ll come when they’re ready.” Bev gave him a placating look.  _

_ “Bill, you got my camera in there?” Ben said, pointing towards the backpack.  _

_ “Yeah, h-here.” Bill shrugged off the bag and unzipped it, holding it out so Ben could pull out his portable film camera. He waved Bill and Bev to scoot back, then leaned forward over the pit and started snapping photos. _

_ “This has gotta be the thing I saw. It’s a fuckin meteor or some shit.” Richie said excitedly. _

_ “I’m sure Stan would know better, if he would come look at it.” Mike interjected. “Dude’s a science whiz.”  _

_ “Doesn’t mean he’s the presiding authority, Mike and Ike! I happen to know quite a lot about science myself.” Richie put his hands on his hips. “First rule of science; hypothesis. What’s ours, ladies and gents?” _

_ “It’s a rock from space?” Beverly supplied.  _

_ “Yes, but you have to phrase it smart-like.” Richie snap-pointed in exuberance. _

_ “This rock’s origin is unknown, but is definitely from somewhere beyond Earth.” _

_ “That’s the ticket, Mike! Now, how do we prove it?” _

_ “Guessing?” Bill snorted. _

_ “No, dear Billiam! One word: experimentation.”  _

_ A devilish smile crept onto Richie’s face. Bill went white. _

_ “No. R-Rich, no-” _

_ “Tally-ho!”  _

_ And with that, Richie Tozier dove down the hole, feet first. _

 

_ _______________________________________________________________________ _

 

_ Stan doesn’t think he’s ever heard Eddie Kaspbrak screech so loudly.  _

_ Or seen him run so fast. _

_ “Richie! Richie, get out of there!” The other losers were crowded around the hole, calling down to Richie, who had disappeared completely into the darkness of the pit. Stan ran begrudgingly down to the group after Eddie, who vaulted past the others and practically catapulted himself into the hole after Richie.  _

_ “Eddie, no!” Ben called, gaping at him as he watched the smaller boy descend. _

_ “Christ guys, get out of there!” Mike yelled, leaning his face down into the hole. “Jesus, I can’t see shit-” _

_ “Do you have a flashlight in there?” Bev said, gesturing at Bill’s bag. _

_ “It m-might not have battery life, b-but yeah.” Bill pulled an old flashlight of his dad’s out of his bag. It took a few smacks to get it to turn on, but once the beam shined true he handed it over to Mike, who resumed his inspection of the hole.  _

_ “I can’t see them at all.” Mike grumbled. “It goes on for awhile.” _

_ “I’m going in.” Ben said, handing his camera to Bev. _

_ “No, no way. We just need to get them to climb back out.” Bev said, gripping his hands. _

_ “Richie! Ed! Come on, get out of there!” Mike called down the hole. No response. _

_ “Guys, seriously, what if they’re stuck down there-” Ben protested. _

_ “RICHARD TOZIER! EDWARD KASPBRAK! GET YOUR ASSES BACK UP HERE!” Mike bellowed, before scrambling back from the hole in surprise. _

_ “Jesus, Michael, no need to get formal on us.” Richie smiled up at him as he climbed up out of the pit. “We found something.” _

_ “For fuck’s sake Tozier, you scared the shit out of us.” Ben breathed, relief coursing through him. “Where’s Eddie?” _

_ “I’m here!” Came Eddie’s muffled voice, and his left hand reaching up out of the hole next to Richie. Richie moved out of the way and reached down to pull Eddie out, which resulted in the two of them tumbling over and landing side by side on the ground, Eddie on his stomach. _

_ “We found something.” He declared into the grass. _

_ “So we’ve been told.” Bev raised an eyebrow. _

_ “Look at this.” Richie said in a hushed tone, pulling something from his pocket as Mike helped Eddie to his feet. Richie stood, object in hand, as they all crowded round to see. _

_ In the palm of Richie’s hand sat a rock of some kind, no bigger than a baseball, that was glowing. _

_ The center was a pulsating blue, the greenish hues more visible the closer to the edges the light got. It was rough and crystalline in form, with bits of black and rough particles mixed in around it. The light was low and flickering, much darker than what had been visible from the top of the hill. Beverly gasped in awe, reaching out to take it in her own hands. _

_ “Wow.” She breathed. Ben immediately leveled his camera to take a picture. (Multiple. Certainly because of the cool space rock. Totally not because of Beverly’s beautiful expression.)  _

_ “What the fuck is that…” Stan pondered quietly, as he and Bill went to take the stone from Bev. They each used a hand to hold both ends, examining the underneath as they raised it above their heads. They passed it to Mike, looking at each other in confusion.  _

_ “Is it… getting brighter?” Mike pondered as he held the stone in one hand.  _

_ “Sort of looks like it is.” Ben said, repositioning Mike’s hand so he could get a better picture of the stone before taking it in his hand himself. “It feels kind of warm.” He took another shot of it in his palm. _

_ “It wasn’t warm when we picked it up-” Eddie grabbed the stone from Ben, holding it level with his face so he could inspect it closely. He suddenly hissed in pain and dropped it. “Ow, fuck!” _

_ The dew-covered grass where the stone landed began to sizzle. “Whoa, Eddie, you okay?” Richie grabbed at Eddie’s hand, inspecting it for a burn mark. _

_ “That thing fucking burned me!” _

_ The light from the stone grew brighter. _

_ “Uh, guys?”  _

_ “You don’t have a mark-” _

_ The hue grew more green, a deep, true green. _

_ “Guys!” _

_ “I think I know when I’ve been burned, Richie-” _

_ “Guys, move!” _

_ And then, there was light. _

 

_ _____________________________________________________________________ _

  
  


_ Bill shook his head as he sat up, grass and dirt clinging to his cheek. To his left was a disgruntled Stan, face down in the grass as he tried to push himself up with his arms.  _

_ Across the field, about twenty yards away from him was Beverly. She wasn’t stirring. Beyond her, a few more yards to her left, was Ben, who was hoisting himself into a kneeling position.  _

_ Bill turned the other way to see Mike, closer by. He was groaning, and pretty soon Bev’s disdain joined his. Beyond Mike, nearly fifty yards away, Richie was shaking a limp form. _

_ Oh god.  _

_ Bill was on his feet as quickly as possible, but hadn’t accounted for the effect the shock would have on his body. He went down almost immediately, bile rising in his stomach as he landed on all fours.  _

_ “Eddie! Eddie!” Richie’s frantic shouts started to float across the expanse, each of the others realizing what was going on and attempting to stumble their way over to the two boys. _

_ Bill went directly past the pit as he made his way to the others. He passed the charred spot in the grass where the stone had landed.  _

_ It was gone. _

_ “Eddie!” Richie was growing more and more frantic, the panic clear on his face when Mike reached them first.  _

_ “Rich, Rich, let go, give him some air.” Mike said calmly as he tried to lay Eddie out flat.  _

_ “Why won’t he wake up?!” _

_ “Hey, hey, he’s been knocked pretty hard, okay? It’s gonna take him a minute, shaking him won’t help.” Richie took a shuddering breath, but hesitantly nodded.  _

_ Bill and Stan came running over, before kneeling down on either side of Richie. Bev and Ben stood behind them when they arrived, looking down at Eddie’s quiet form with worry. _

_ “Eddie, hey, time to wake up now.” Mike said in a gentle tone, lightly tapping Eddie’s face. A small trail of blood started running out of Eddie’s nose.  _

_ Richie lost his shit. _

_ “Eds- Eds, oh my god, look at his nose!” He cried, reaching out to wipe the blood away and shake his face. _

_ “Richie! Be careful with him, he could have a concussion!” Mike yelled, trying to pull Richie’s hands away. The scuffle jostled Eddie more, but the boy still didn’t stir. When Mike was finally able to pull Richie away, and Stan and Bill got ahold of his hands to keep him from reaching out again, they heard a small intake of breath. _

_ “What th-... what the fuck?” _

_ “Eddie!” _

_ Richie lost his handlers and immediately scooped the smaller boy into his arms. “Jesus fucking Christ Eds, you scared the shit out of me.” _

_ “What the fuck happened?” He muttered, rubbing a sore spot on his head. _

_ “That thing fucking exploded.” Stan said plainly. “Right over-” He trailed off as they all turned to look at where the stone had dropped, and they saw nothing but an empty field. _


	4. chapter 3 - june

“I still think this is a stupid idea.” Eddie’s grumble came from behind him; as Stan turned to look over his shoulder, he saw Richie help the complaint box down out of the bed of Mike’s truck. 

“We know, we know, Mister Whiney.” Richie sighed, pulling Eddie out of the descending Ben and Bev’s path via headlock-disguised-as-hug. Stan waited patiently for Bill to clamber out of the passenger door, watching him carefully for signs of imbalance. Over the two days of convincing it took to get Eddie to come near Mike’s truck ( _ you’re going to ABDUCT me and make me go back! _ he had insisted, the night Richie had attempted to physically  _ haul _ him into the vehicle) Stan had gotten a good four meals into Bill, (which, though still not enough, had been more than expected) but had not managed to make him sleep enough. The paranoia that the incident would repeat itself was keeping Bill just on the edge of functional; though, in Stan’s opinion, the only thing  _ truly _ keeping Bill from falling over into the abyss was his constant babysitting, but he wouldn’t say it. 

“This whole thing is giving me a terrible feeling.” Eddie muttered, shivering obviously. Though it was the dead end of summer, the evenings were starting to bring in a chill, and Eddie was notorious for being constantly cold. Richie gave him a look as he shrugged off the comically large denim jacket he was wearing. He had purchased it at the local goodwill and then proceeded to wear it almost daily; he called it his “smoking jacket”, not because it was a fancy piece of men’s formalwear, but because the pockets were large enough to easily hide his packs of cigarettes. It was a faded grey, (Eddie had always assumed the jacket had been black, once, but perhaps it was just a dark grey denim) the inside lining a cotton fabric printed with a small, delicate floral design. Bill and Ben had attempted to tease him relentlessly about this, but he had responded with a swift claim that “patterns were his thing” and that it made the jacket look more “punk”. To further support his thesis he mentioned the black corduroy collar, adornments of zippered pockets, and the cuffs he had rolled at the ends of the too-long sleeves. In theory, the whole concept was a bit of a mess, but on Richie it just seemed to  _ work _ . The strangest part about the jacket, by far, was not the patterns or color or origin. The most inexplicable aspect was the care tag. It read as a women's small, and completely  _ dwarfed _ Richie. He was tall, with a torso to match, and it managed to cover all the way from his shoulders past his ass, a feat that even some men’s larges had failed to do. (Not that Eddie had noticed, no sir.) The sleeves, before being cuffed, swallowed his large hands. The rest of the jacket hung loosely off his sides, with what appeared to be enough space to conceal most of another person. And a myriad of other things, as they had found out one night of stolen-beer-fueled tomfoolery, where a game of truth or dare had morphed into “What (or Who) Can Richie Hide In His Jacket?”. The answer? A six pack of beer (pocket), the couch pillow (behind his back), Bill’s wallet (stolen and placed in the zippered pocket by Mike, and remained there undiscovered until the next morning), four unshucked corn cobs (two in each sleeve), Eddie (for the latter, he was instructed to give Eddie a piggy-back ride, then have both of them insert their arms into the sleeves. Sadly the front was unable to button closed, but with his legs tucked around Richie’s hips, the only part of Eddie that was visible from behind was his head. They had stayed that way for the remainder of the evening, claiming to be stuck ((they weren’t)) in the jacket together.) and still the packet of cigarettes always hidden safely in the breast pocket. The jacket had become in an integral part of Richie’s personality, even if it shrunk him.

Presently, Eddie was drowning in it. 

“Why did you put your jacket on me?” Eddie asked, his brow furrowed, as he held the draped cloth together at the collar. 

“Because I was getting hot, so I was gonna make you carry it, but then you started shaking like the little chihuahua you are, so I figured you could just wear it. You gonna put it on?” He mused, giving Eddie a prompting look as he reached into the breast pocket and pulled out his pack. 

“I am not a chihuahua.” Eddie spat, inserting his arms into the sleeves. 

“Let’s see,” Richie sighed as he pulled one cigarette out of the box. “You’re small,” he started listing, sticking the cig in his mouth as he replaced the pack, fishing out the lighter that was hidden next to it. Eddie could feel his searching fingers brush lightly against his chest through the fabric. “You yell at everything,” Richie continued, as he found his prize and extracted it, flicking the end and raising it to the tip of the cigarette he was talking around. “And presently, you’re shaking.” He finished before taking a drag. “Remind me how that’s not a chihuahua, again?” He smirked, exhaling smoke through his nose.

Eddie was too distracted by the whole display to be properly angry. 

“C’mon Rich, leave the poor boy alone.” Mike said as he pocketed the keys and plucked the cigarette from Richie’s hand, earning a pout as he stole a drag.

“You spoil all my fun.” Richie said, following Mike and the rest of the pack as they set off down their usual path. “Literally, all of it. Making fun of Eddie and smoking are like, the only things I care about.”

“You need to find better hobbies, man.” Mike smiled good naturedly around another pull as Richie grabbed the thing right out of his mouth. Bev rounded Richie’s other side and stole it before he could return it to his mouth. He frowned at the surprise of an empty grip, turning blindly before being met with the sight of Bev’s smirk wrapped around the butt. Ben laced his fingers with hers with a small laugh, as she took a drag and then stuck it back in Richie’s mouth. 

“Ah- _ hmph _ \- fanks.” Richie mumbled as he struggled not to drop it. Eddie rolled his eyes at the fumble and fell into step next to the lanky boy, holding his arms close to his chest. Richie’s teasing hadn’t been incorrect; despite the added heat of the jacket, he was shaking. With every step they took towards their usual hang, where Richie had seen the star fall, the feeling of bone-deep fear he’d felt a few days ago when he imagined pursuit grew more and more palpable.

If he reached out to take Richie’s hand to steady himself over a particularly difficult section of the path, could he really be blamed?

And if he kept hold through the rest of their trek, would they believe him if he blamed the fear?

 

_____________________________________________________________________________

 

“You need some water yet?” Stan nudged Bill’s shoulder lightly as they trailed behind the group. Mike had taken the lead, having a conversation with Ben about some car at their work. Bev was behind, having a moment of quiet contemplation as she smoked the second cigarette Richie had started (which she had proceeded to steal promptly). The aforementioned chimney smoker came next, Eddie’s small and trembling hand locked in his as Richie helped guide him over the terrain. Normally Eddie could take the path just fine; they hiked it on a regular basis after all. But even from a few paces behind, Stanley could see the way Eddie’s shoulders were shaking and how often his footfalls were missteps. He watched in curious silence as Richie attempted to distract Eddie with mumbled comments as they walked. 

“N-no. I’m okay.” Bill responded with a small shake of his head.

“Let me know when you do.” Stan offered, shifting the water bottle he held from his right to his left hand. Bill only sighed and gave a curt nod as he hitched up the straps of his trusty backpack. 

Bill had mentioned to Stan earlier that morning that all the worried looks and sideways glances were upsetting him, so Stan had been making a conscious effort to keep himself from constantly checking up on the boy beside him. Since the only thing in front of him was the nearly-six-foot-tall Wall Of Richie, he took the length of their hike to visually check up on his best friend. 

What he saw perturbed him; painted on Richie’s face every time he had to tighten his grip on the smaller boys hand was the same concern and worry that had been steeping in Stan’s mind the longer he watched Bill descend down his spiral of woes.

Two light bulbs went off simultaneously in Stan’s head. 

“Whoa, you okay?” Bill caught his arm as Stan tripped. 

“Yeah… yeah, I’m fine.” Stan exhaled, avoiding Bill’s concerned gaze. 

Two realizations had hit him so hard he had lost his footing.

The first; Richie was hopelessly in love with Eddie.

The second; Stan himself felt the exact same way about Bill.

_____________________________________________________________________________

 

“Okay, but how  _ far  _ to the right did we go, guys.” Eddie was protesting as Mike and Richie tried to retrace their footsteps from the fateful night from before. Ben could see from his position in the back of the group how close Eddie was to an asthma attack-  _ no, not asthma. _ he corrected his thoughts.

“It doesn’t matter Eds, we have to go  _ up  _ to get to the plateau.” Richie sighed, coming up on the bluff they had climbed. 

Eddie shook his head. “I don’t want to climb it.”

“Eddie-” Mike turned to talk some sense into his friend.

“No, Mike, I’m serious, I’m not fucking climbing up there.” Eddie exhaled shakily, his body obviously trembling. 

The groups momentum came to a stop as they all reached the vicinity of the wall of the bluff, Richie’s hand already poised on a rock jutting out near his forehead. Mike was next to him, back against the dirt as he stood with his arms crossed. The rest formed a tight semi-circle in front of the two boys, almost everyone’s eyes trained on Eddie as he stood there shivering. 

“Jesus, Eds, are you that fucking cold?” Richie looked at him in surprised concern.

“I don’t fucking know!” Eddie screeched, surprising even himself with the outburst. He looked at his feet guiltily as everyone stayed quiet. “I don’t know.” He repeated in an even tone. “I- I can’t stop shaking and I feel kind of dizzy and- I don’t think I can make the climb. My hands are really clammy a-and my arms feel weak-” 

“It’s okay,” Ben, who was closest, placed a gentle hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “I’ll stay down here with you.” Ben gave Eddie a warm smile as the small boy looked up at him sheepishly. “As long as you’re okay with that, Bill.” Ben looked over at Bill, whose heart was sinking. “We did come out here for you.”

“You sure you c-c-can’t make it up, Eds?” Bill asked, his voice small.

Eddie gave him a sympathetic look. “I promise I’m not trying to avoid helping you, Bill. I feel really sick, like for sure this time.” 

“Let him stay behind, he’s not jerking you.” Richie said, giving Bill a solemn look and avoiding Eddie’s eyes.

“W-we’ll be quick.” Bill said, resigned, as he nodded to Ben. Ben gave his own curt nod in reply, before turning to Beverly.

“You cool without me up there, hun?”

“As a cucumber.” She smiled. “Want me to get you more pictures?” She offered, gesturing vaguely at the camera Ben brought that was tucked away safely in Bill’s backpack.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re perfect?” Ben sighed dreamily.

“You, every fucking day, Haystack. C’mon, let’s get this over with.” Richie grumbled as he began ascending the wall. Ben rolled his eyes before he dropped a kiss on Bev’s forehead. She returned the gesture before following Richie’s lead and climbing. Mike scaled his section quickly, Stan and Bill following him after quick glances at Eddie. He nodded them off before sitting on a nearby rock. 

“You need any water or anything?” Ben asked Eddie casually after the others had all disappeared over the top of the bluff. Eddie shook his head, hugging his knees to his chest as Ben came and sat on the ground next to him. “You wanna talk at all?” He asked after a beat.

“Can’t.” Eddie said quietly, obviously out of breath. 

“Need me to count you out?” Ben replied, keeping his voice calm despite his prevalent worry. Eddie nodded again. “Okay, hold up a finger when you’re ready to start.” Eddie took a few more shallow breaths before raising his index finger. “Alright. In; one, two, three. Out; one, two, three, four, five.” Ben repeated his count, stretching the seconds as they went and Eddie got his pace adjusted. When they reached eight on the exhale, Eddie composed himself.

“Thanks.”

“Anytime.” 

A pause. 

“Wanna tell me what’s going on?”

“I would if I could.” Eddie picked up a small twig and began fiddling with it.

“You look just as scared as you did after we watched  _ Friday the Thirteenth _ last weekend.” Ben joked (partially).

“I feel it.” Eddie gave him a serious look. “I’m fucking scared, Ben. I don’t like any of this.” Ben shifted so he was leaning back, hands holding his weight as he turned towards Eddie. “But even I know this is irrational.” He gestured at his shaking body.

“Why do you think this is happening?” Ben questioned.

Eddie was silent as he used the twig to draw lines on the rock he was perched on. Ben waited patiently for his answer.

“I think… something weird is happening with me too.” 

“Bill’s kind of weird?”

“Maybe closer to Bev’s.”

“Describe it to me.”

“So, I’ve been getting these, I don’t know, _ episodes _ where my whole body starts acting like I’m being chased by a fucking axe murderer. My heart races, I get clammy, shaky, the whole nine yards. The same day as everyone else’s weird thing, I-” he dropped the stick, looking up at Ben. “I was walking home from the pharmacy and- and my brain was fucking  _ convinced _ that someone was chasing me, so I took off running! And there was no one fucking there!” 

Ben furrowed his brow in confused consideration.

“And it’s happening again right now.” He stated cautiously, which Eddie confirmed with a nod.

“It’s-” The smaller boy froze, a strange and sickly expression growing on his face, Ben instantly alert at the change in his demeanor. He listened intently, fearing Eddie had heard something, but was only met with silence, until-

“Mike.” Eddie said, voice grave. 

“What about him?” Ben stood as Eddie scrambled to his feet, worry growing in his gut.

“He’s hurt.” Eddie grew frantic as he approached the wall, searching for a way up.

“How do you know?” Ben asked incredulously, trying to halt Eddie’s mad scramble. 

“I don’t know!” He protested. Suddenly it occurred to him what he just said. “I don’t know.” He looked at Ben in shock. “I just do.”

Ben sighed.

“Well, you know what, let’s fucking roll with it. Shit’s weird as it is.”

Eddie almost laughed at the response.


	5. chapter 4 - june

“Bev, I’m pretty sure Ben doesn’t want pictures of the back of my head.” Stan sighed as he heard the click of the camera fire off again, the flash illuminating the side of Bill’s face in his peripheral.

“Who says it’s just the back of your head, huh?” Stan could practically hear her shit-eating grin as she teased. She did, however, stop taking pictures as they found their way to the edge of the clearing.

“I’ll pay you one thousand dollars for that photo.” Richie whispered conspiratorially in Beverly’s ear. To his bad luck, Stan caught it.

“You give him that picture Bev and you’ll be paying a lot more than that in medical bills.” Stan raised his voice, throwing a venomous look over his shoulder at neither of them in particular. Richie laughed and fired off a retort, something or other about protecting Bev’s honor, but Stan missed it. All other sound was drowned out as the nervous boy beside him let out his first laugh in nearly a week. Admittedly, it was nothing special compared to the fullness and power of Bill’s usual laughter, but the sound of it made Stan feel like he was soaring.

“-Jeez Uris, I knew I took your breath away, but I think this is the first time outside of the bedroom I’ve left you speechless.” Richie’s arm was suddenly thrown around him, jarring him out of his reverie; he hadn’t noticed his own sigh of relief until Richie’s comment. He pushed the lanky arm off of him.

“I’m sorry, did I fucking volunteer to replace Eddie as your personal harassment dummy?” Richie’s face squished in genuine laughter. Stan couldn’t help but smirk proudly. “I mean it Rich, cause I don’t fuckin’ recall.”

Bill’s laughter repeated, soft and scratchy, and it lit Stanley’s world like a sunrise.

“Uris gets off a good one!” Richie cried, holding his side as he guffawed. Mike turned from his position at the head of the group to observe the sight; he would maintain until the day that he died that there was never a better sight than an authentic Richie Tozier Cackle.

“He h-has been known to be good at g-g-getting people off.” Bill interjected with a smirk.

Beverly stopped abruptly, jaw dropping.

Now, it was in no way out of character for one Bill Denbrough to be making this kind of comment. Though he would never hold the title of the king of banter amongst their little group, he had been known to come up with a few golden one-liners here and there.

What shocked Beverly, and the entire group as a whole, was the fact that  _ Stan _ was the subject of Bill’s jab. Normally either Richie or Eddie were his victims (because they were the easiest), and Ben and Mike often his accomplices. Stanley, however, was his point man. Their humor often came as a set-em-up knock-em-down style, with Bill instigating a member of the group into something stupid and Stan coming in for the kill with hilarious commentary. In all her years of knowing the boys, Bev had never quite seen a day where Richie and Bill had ganged up on Stanley, especially not with such a spectacular hit.

What made the whole thing unbearably, shockingly hilarious?

Stan’s  _ face _ .

Bev’s mind caught up with her response, and she sputtered once before releasing a torrential downpour of laughter. Mike legitimately ceased his walking to turn and look at Bill, eyebrows raised, face a mask of sheer entertainment and  _ pride _ over the comment. Bill stopped too, grinning like a jungle cat at anyone who wasn’t laughing too hard to make eye contact with him. 

Stan’s whole face was white, and Richie was on the  _ ground _ .

“Oh my  _ GOD _ !” He yelled through his laughter, clutching his glasses to avoid losing them in the dirt. “That’s- that’s your best one yet, Denbrough!” He managed through his uncontrollable laughter. Bill preened at the compliment, turning his smirk to Stan, who looked like he’d already committed murder three times over and was gearing up for a fourth. 

“I’m gonna kill you.” He said coldly, voice dangerously quiet. This only caused Bill’s smile to crack open wider, his laughter trickling through.

“Wh-what? Is that not a c-c-compliment?” 

Bill narrowly avoided the metal water bottle that was swung at his head.

“Death. Death awaits you Denbrough, in the worst way you can imagine.”

Richie let loose another bark of laughter, derailing his feeble attempts to stand back up.

“E-either way, I’ll s-s-still be g-getting off, right?”

Stan’s yell of anger as he swung again with the canteen was lost in the swirling peals of the other's laughter, Bill side-stepping and receiving the brunt of the hit on his back.

“H-hey, ow!” 

“Okay, okay, Stan, no need to clobber the boy.” Mike said between giggles as he steered Stan away from Bill by his shoulders.

“He deserves it.” Stan said plainly, his cheeks flooding red.

“Darn right he does.” Mike laughed, hugging Stan from behind to prevent him from charging after the retreating Bill. “Doesn’t mean you have to do it.” 

Stan sighed, dropping his tense shoulders. “I’m gonna get you back for that comment.” He spat.

“You’re not g-gonna get me off for it?” 

“That’s  _ it _ \-  **DENBROUGH! GET BACK HERE!** ”

 

__________________________________________________________________________________

 

“Eddie,” Ben was panting as they stumbled through the brush. “Slow  _ down _ , and explain!”

“I can’t!” Eddie called from out in front of him, his small size allowing him to clear the low hanging branches with much more ease than Ben.

“Well- Ed-  _ Eddie _ , the fuck are we running through the woods for?!” Ben yelled with exasperation, head down as he traversed the terrain. He stopped short as he nearly collided with the other boy, who seemed to have appeared right in front of him. “ _ Jesus _ -”

“Which fucking way did they go?” Eddie said through shallow breaths, more to himself than to Ben. A raindrop thickened and fell onto Ben’s hand as he placed it on Eddie’s shoulder to hold him still. They both looked up at the sky confused; it had been a clear afternoon only moments ago.

“Huh.” Ben mused as he still looked at the sky. “I didn’t remember rain in the forecast today.” His consideration was stopped short as Eddie’s head snapped to the right, eyes alighting, before he took off running again. 

“Ch-CHRIST Eddie,  _ WAIT _ !” Ben called after him, following with fervor.

Raindrops continued to coagulate, falling at an increased rate, landing on leaves and branches that had come apart in the wake of the two boys, now stitching themselves back together again.

 

__________________________________________________________________________________

 

“Stan, wait, you’re gonna hurt him!” Bev was laughing as she and Richie tore down the hill, the open plain from nights before now their arena as Stan chased Bill, canteen in hand and face like a madman.

“That’s the point!” He roared, Mike hot on his heels, laughing as he closed in for a tackle. Bev knew it wasn’t going to end pretty; the grassy plateau was pretty muddy, and growing worse as it slowly began to rain. Stan would be pissed about the mud on his clothes after Mike got him, but honestly, there was no other way this would go down. Riche stopped his pursuit, panting with his hands on his knees, before raising his finger in the air above his head.

“Wai-  _ fuck _ \- wait. Smokers lungs.” He heaved, scratchy breaths escaping through a small trail of laughter. Beverly stopped next to him, grinning as they made eye contact between their heavy breathing, before raising the camera with a smirk. “Oh, fuck yes.” Richie sighed, laughter taking him again. “You’re a genius.”

“I try.” She exhaled, tossing a stray piece of her hair over her shoulder, raising the camera to her eye. 

She caught all three running boys in her frame, just as Mike was closing in-

Snapped the button for the shutter-

A quick  _ flash! _

Then the little whine of the recharge- 

As she lowered the camera, she frowned, surprised to see Mike alone face down in the dirt.

Stan heard the thump behind him and slowed his pace to turn around. He heard the footfalls out ahead of him slow to a halt as well, as Bill turned around to see what happened. 

“Mike, you okay?” Stan called to him with concern as he slowly jogged over. Bill quickly caught up with him as Richie and Bev came running down the hill. 

“Is he okay?” Bev inquired.

“Don’t know.” Bill replied, about to crouch down to Mike when he moved. 

“Holy shit.” Mike mumbled gruffly, slowly lifting himself out of the dirt. He spat out a small clump of dirt before pulling himself to his knees. His right leg disappeared slightly into the ground. It was then apparent what had happened; his foot had gotten caught in a hole.  _ The _ hole.

“You alright, man?” Richie asked as he put a hand on Mike’s back, the other reaching around front to help him up.

“Yeah.” Mike grunted as Richie helped haul him to his feet, dislodging the right one from the hole. He tested his weight on it gingerly. “Just twisted my ankle is all.” He said with a slight laugh. “Betchyou’ woulda wanted this to happen to Bill, huh Stan?” He cracked a smile and received a small smattering of relieved laughter before they were all interrupted by a screeching yell.

**_“MIKE!”_ **

Eddie was suddenly careening down the hill, too-large jacket flailing wildly in the air behind him, and a very concerned and equal parts frustrated Ben in tow.

“Eddie, the fuck-?” Mike started as he turned to see the small boy barrelling towards him, face full of surprise.

“Eds, careful, the hole!” Richie moved to stop the bullet his best friend had become before he met the same fate as Mike’s right ankle. Richie just barely caught him in time, the force of the abruptly halted momentum knocking both of them off kilter. They didn’t go down; Richie locked his knees and held his ground as Eddie righted himself. He was instantly pushed off the frantic boy as Eddie scrambled to pull Mike into his arms.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asked urgently after hugging the man, holding both of his arms tightly in his grip. 

“Uh, yeah?” Mike said in confusion. “I mean, I just fell and twisted my ankle, but-”

“Wait, when?” Eddie nearly shook Mike with his insistence.

“Like, thirty seconds ago. I literally just got up.” 

Eddie relinquished his grip, face turning yellow and contemplative as a panting Ben finally caught up with them.

“Fuck’s sake, Eddie…” He sighed between breaths.

“Either of you wanna tell us what the fuck is going on?” Richie asked, clearly on edge, as he looked to Ben for an explanation, with an expression that clearly stated he did not expect an answer from Eddie.

Ben shook his head at him as he tried to catch his breath. “I’m just as lost as you are. Care to fill us in, Eds?”

Eddie was shaking again, face losing its pallor as his yellow tone slowly shifted to green. He refused to look at any of their faces as his eyes darted around, catching on Mike’s muddy sneaker, the hole, his hands. Clearly trying to gather his thoughts, they tried giving him a minute. His breathing grew shallow and more frequent, and just as Richie opened his mouth to try and prompt him to speak, Eddie abruptly keeled over and threw up.

 

__________________________________________________________________________________

 

“Fuck- wait- his feet are slipping-” 

“Stan, help him with the other one.”

“Keep his head up, Christ!” Ben’s voice swam in Eddie’s ears.

“Eddie. Eddie, can you hear me?” Beverly had a finger on his cheek, two more at his neck. “His pulse is crazy high.” She says, to who he isn’t sure.

“What’re we-”

He misses the end of Richie’s question.

 

__________________________________________________________________________________

 

“Fuck, wait, someone’s gotta go down first.” Richie panted, coming up to the edge of the bluff, shifting Eddie’s vomit-covered feet in his hands.

“You go, I’ll lower him down to you. Ben, help him.” Mike instructed, arms hooked under Eddie’s armpits, the boys white and clammy face bobbing lightly as he was jostled. “Stan, grab my keys and go get the truck started up.”

“Right.” Stan thrust a hand down Mike’s front pocket, grabbing the keys and descending the wall as fast as he could. Bill and Beverly followed, next to Richie and Ben who prepared themselves for Mike to start lowering Eddie.

“Okay, we’re ready.” Ben clapped his hands, mouth open in concentration as he squared his stance and reached for the dangling feet above him. He swallowed down the disgust as his fingers met fresh vomit, repeating to himself how serious the situation was. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Richie’s trembling hands take hold of Eddie’s other leg. They shifted awkwardly, unsure of how to get him down in the least uncomfortable way.

“Oh, fuck it.” Richie muttered, before his arm wound its way around the back of Eddie’s thigh, getting him a good enough hold on his weight that Ben could reach up and get one hand on Eddie’s hip, the other holding Eddie’s top half upright as Mike let go. Richie bent down, planting Eddie’s feet on the ground and untangling his arms. He held Eddie up by the middle, Ben’s hands on Eddie’s shoulder blades to keep him righted as Mike quickly hopped down. 

“Can I just piggyback him from here?” Richie asked Ben as Mike wiped the dirt on his hands off on his jeans.

“You want him to wake up and throw up on you?” Ben quirked an eyebrow.

“Fuck no, but if we carry him like we were before and that happens, won’t he choke on it?”

“Fuckin’ pussies,” Mike muttered, shaking his head before extracting Eddie from Richie’s arms. “First of all,” he grunted as he lifted the boy bridal-style. “Getting thrown up on isn’t the worst thing in the whole world.” Richie and Ben followed Mike’s lead in wiping their hands on their jeans. “Secondly, if he pukes, you tilt him. ‘Snot rocket science.” He huffed before setting off at a brisk pace towards the truck.

“That’s all well and fucking good Mike, but again, I repeat, what the fuck are we going to do?” Richie huffed as he and Ben jogged to keep up with him.

“We’re gonna try and wake him up again when we get back to the truck.” Mike grumbled. “And look, I know you’re worried Richie, but you don’t have to snap at me, I’m trying to help.”

“Okay,  _ you _ just called me a pussy so I think I have the right to be a little irritable.”

“Fair.” Mike sighed. “Ben, can you run ahead and get the bed of the truck down, and the blanket from under the seat?” Mike said between quick puffs of air. Ben quickly jogged out in front of them, putting his track training to good use. “Fuck.” Mike said under his breath, fervently attempting to shift Eddie’s weight in his arms and keep his pace.

“You okay?” Richie asked.

“Yeah, he’s just really fuckin’ heavy.”

“Here, let me take him.” Mike gratefully passed off the unconscious boy, taking a second to shake out his overworked arm muscles before falling into step beside Richie, who was looking down at Eddie’s slack face in his arms in utter desolation. 

“Mike. What do we do if he doesn’t wake up?” Richie asked him urgently. “I mean, fuck, do we even know what’s wrong with him?”

Mike gave him a reserved look, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “He is going to wake up Rich, he just passed out. He’s not dying, so calm down.” It wasn’t an insulting, chiding tone; he never spoke to his friends that way. He simply stated the truth, and they always understood it. Richie sighed, attempting to shake his now very damp hair out of his eyes. The rain had begun to fall at a very steady rate, soaking the boys as they careened down the path. “Listen,” Mike began, running a hand over his face. “I’m not a doctor, I’m not gonna diagnose him or anything, but…” Richie looked at him expectantly. “Look, for as long as we’ve known him I’ve been suspicious.”

“Of what?”

“We know his asthma was psychosomatic.”

“Yeah.”

“But his symptoms had to come from somewhere.” Mike wiped some raindrops off his brow before reaching over to pluck Richie’s glasses off his face, drying them on his shirt so Richie could see where he was going. “You’d know better than anyone how often he has his ‘attacks’.” He quoted, putting Richie’s glasses back on him. He muttered a quiet thanks as fragmented memories of frightened moments coursed through his head, nights spent tearing apart bedrooms in search of hidden inhalers, plastic shoved in a heaving mouth, Eddie’s eyes screwed shut, white knuckles clenched in the fabric of Richie’s shirt-

“But you think it’s something else.” He said, cutting off his own thoughts.

“Like I said, I’m no expert, but… I think he’s got some kind of panic disorder.”

Richie shot him a confused look. “A what now?”

“I’m only making this conjecture because my aunt has it. I don’t know a whole lot about it but, from what I’ve noticed about her… the nervousness, the shortness of breath, the- the vomiting.” Mike shrugged. “Eddie probably had a panic attack. They can make you pass out. If you hyperventilate too much you can lose consciousness because you’re not getting enough oxygen.”

Richie looked down at Eddie’s pale face, his lips parted slightly.

“He’ll wake up soon.” Mike said reassuringly as they came up on the truck.

He couldn’t quite speak around the lump in his throat to agree.

“Stan, get the truck started up. We gotta take him home, get him warmed up.” Mike called out, grabbing the blanket from Ben’s waiting arms and climbing up into the bed of the truck. “Here, hand him up to me, Rich.” Richie complied numbly, quickly scrambling into the back with them when Eddie had been brought up. He barely registered Bill’s instructions to return to his house, or the sound of Bev closing the passenger door as she climbed in the cab next to Stan and Bill. Behind him, Ben was pulling up the tailgate, and in front of him Mike was wrapping Eddie in the blanket.

“I know it’s already wet but… it should help with the shock.” Mike explained in a mumble as Stan started driving.

Richie swallowed dryly, moving towards the back of the cab to sit against it. “Here, lay him down with me.” He found himself saying. Together he and Mike laid Eddie out, swaddled in the now near sopping blanket, back against Richie’s chest. His head bobbed and jostled as the truck picked up speed over the rough terrain, his eyes moving back and forth behind his eyelids. The sky grew darker as the sun began to go down and the clouds loomed thicker. Ben and Mike sat in the other end of the bed, talking quietly with worried eyes on Eddie. 

Richie ignored it all. Bringing up a hand to Eddie’s face, he adjusted the rain-slick curls that clung to the boy’s forehead. 

“Eds. Hey. Think you can wake up for me?” He tried tapping Eddie’s face lightly. Ben and Mike stopped their murmuring to watch the two boys with concern. 

Eddie did not stir.

“I need you to wake up and yell at me, yeah?” Richie pleaded quietly. “It’s been like, thirty minutes since you chewed me out for something. I’m missing that obnoxious little screech of yours.” He smiled, pinching Eddie’s cheek, trying to ignore the pinch in his heart. “I know you’re okay, so wake up for me, please?” He said quietly next to Eddie’s ear, his arms winding around his torso to hold him close.

Stan drove over a particularly rough pothole.

Richie practically felt the gasp.

“Eds!” He broke out into a huge grin, but it was quickly wiped away as Eddie violently wretched. Richie went to tip him sideways, but an arm shot out from under the blanket to grab onto him.

“I’m okay.” Eddie spoke with a weak, hoarse voice.

“Thank fuck you are.” Richie righted him again, hugging him firmly from behind. 

“What happened?” He asked blearily, blinking at Ben and Mike.

“You threw up like, four times, and then passed out.” Richie told him gently. “We’re taking you back to Bill’s to get you all clean and warmed up.” He rubbed at Eddie’s shoulders, hoping to heat him up with the friction. 

“M’Sorry... “ Eddie groaned. “That’s disgusting, I’m so sorry you had to see that…”

“Hey, it’s no shame, yeah? We’re just worried about you.” Richie dropped a kiss on the top of Eddie’s head, praying that everyone would ignore it. Eddie was back to his shaking, this time truly from the cold. He screwed up his face in pain as he leaned heavily on Richie.

“Fuck, my head…” He whimpered. 

“Just hold on till we get to Bill’s, buddy.” Richie mumbled reassuringly, cradling Eddie to his chest as he curled up in pain. “Just hold on till then.”


	6. chapter 5 - june

“Bill, honey, is that you?” Mrs. Denbrough’s voice sounded from the kitchen in response to the clatter the group made on their way into the house.

“It’s us, Mrs. D!” Stan called, closing the door behind them as Bill and Richie started up the stairs, Eddie’s weight balanced between the two of them. He feebly protested, maintaining he could hold himself up just fine, but their walk up the drive had told them otherwise. 

“Are you kids alright?” Bill’s mother said, reaching the foyer just after the three had disappeared at the top of the landing. Bev and Ben stopped where the were on the stairs to turn and join the conversation.

“Just fine, thanks.” Mike said with a winning smile, as Stan handed him his keys behind their backs.

“Bill with you?” She looked around for her son, expression one of thinly veiled disbelief. 

“Yeah, just had to pee real bad.” Beverly offered with a nervous laugh. 

“Well, tell him when he comes out I’d like to talk to him for a minute. Stan said you were all staying for dinner, is that still the plan?”

“Sure is.” Ben said jovially, pushing lightly at Beverly to start ascending the stairs again. 

“We’ll come down when it’s ready, thanks Mrs. D.” Stan said quickly, shooting her a lopsided smile before they all dashed up the stairs. 

Mrs. Denbrough stood shaking her head for a moment before sighing and turning back to the kitchen. 

_____________________________________________________________________________

 

“Christ, does this thing even have a hot setting?” Richie spat as he fumbled with the knobs on the tub. 

“Rich, calm down okay, I’m not dying-” Eddie said quietly, his voice hoarse, his shoulders hunched under the blanket where he sat on the toilet lid that Richie and Bill had perched him on.

“You’re soaked.” Bill said, moving to pull away the sopping wet blanket. Eddie smiled at him gratefully. Next came Richies jacket; Eddie’s muscles had locked up so it took some coercing on Bill’s behalf, but eventually they got his arms out of the sleeves. 

Richie got the tub to start running at the temperature he wanted, so he turned to look at Eddie, satisfied. He frowned as Bill started to coax him out of his tee shirt. 

“How come you get to be the one undressing my Eds?” He pouted.

It was phrased like a joke, but it wasn’t.

“You’re th-the one b-b-being finicky ab-bout the bathwater.” Bill said, his small smirk only visible to Eddie, out of the corner of his eye.

“You guys got it?” Came Bev’s concerned voice after a knock on the door. Bill stood up straight and cracked it open, speaking to all four of the concerned faces in the gap.

“Yeah. W-we’re gonna get him i-in the b-b-bath for a bit. D-did my m-mom make food yet?” 

“It’s still cooking, I think. Want me to get him anything?” Stan offered.

“Yeah, like a-a banana or s-s-something.” Bill nodded. 

“Uh, one quick question.” Mike cut in, his line of sight having been trained on the boys beyond Bill in the bathroom. “Why is Richie taking off his pants?”

Bill turned, dropping his hand from the door handle, causing it to fall open and expose the sight to the others. Richie was currently shimmying Eddie’s soaking wet jeans down his thighs, the smaller boy still shivering in his boxers.

“He’s gotta get in the tub, Michael. What, you want him to bathe in his Levi’s?” Richie said flippantly, undeterred in his task.

“Yeah, but why do  _ you _ have to do it?” Mike questioned in a low voice that only Ben and Stan could hear, each snickering in response.

“Everyone knows I am still here, right?” Eddie huffed with flushed cheeks, obviously struggling to keep his spasming hands under control. 

Stan rolled his eyes as Richie lifted one of Eddie’s feet to pull the damp garment away. “What would you like to eat, Eddie.”

“A banana is fine.” He folded his arms across his chest, his body jolting slightly. “And maybe some water, please?” He added quietly. Stan nodded and headed down the hall, pulling Mike along with him. The two of them were a legendary team when it came to asking Bill’s mom for favors.

“I’ll throw those clothes in the dryer, along with everyone else’s.” Beverly offered, sticking a hand out, where Richie deposited the jeans when they were free from Eddie’s other ankle. Bill bundled up the blanket and the other clothes to hand to her as well. 

“Y-you guys can raid m-m-my closet for d-dry clothes.” Bill suggested.

“See if my cigs are salvageable out of that mess, Beverly dear?” Richie asked over his shoulder as he started guiding Eddie over to the tub. “Oh, and shut the door Billiam, we have to preserve our precious Eddie’s honor.”

Bev and Eddie rolled their eyes in unison. 

“Sure thing, Rich.” Bev sighed as she pulled the door shut and left for the laundry room, Ben in tow.

“Y-you need anything el-else, Ed?” Bill said with finality, washing his hands in the sink. 

“No, thank you.” Eddie said, dropping his briefs. He didn’t miss how quickly Richie averted his gaze; it was strange, considering how many times both he and Bill had seen Eddie naked. Bill hadn’t even flinched at all.

“I’m g-gonna go ch-ch-change. I’ll l-leave you some cl-clothes out.” 

“Thanks.” Eddie repeated as he climbed into the tub, body instantly beginning to relax. 

“You c-comin Rich?” Bill raised an eyebrow as he dried his hands. 

Richie shook his head, looking over at Eddie, whose eyes were closed already as his muscles started to loosen up.

“I’m gonna stay. In case he drowns.”

Eddie raised one brow, eyes still closed.

“I’m not gonna respond to that.” 

Bill sighed. “I’ll b-be in my r-room. Take your time.” With that he closed the door, leaving the two alone in slightly strained silence.

“You should go change out of those wet clothes.” Eddie spoke after a moment.

“M’fine.” Richie shook his head as he sat on the floor next to the tub, back against the wall opposite Eddie so they were facing each other. He did proceed to take off his shoes though, which Eddie counted as a win. 

“You don’t have to babysit me.”

“I know.”

Another long stretching silence remained before Richie spoke again. 

“Do you want me to leave.”

Eddie hugged his knees before shaking his head minutely. 

“Do you…” Richie started, before realizing he didn’t even know what kind of question was on the end of his lips. “Do you want us to take you somewhere? I know you hate the hospital, but-”

“No.” Eddie quickly cut him off. “No, I- don’t want that. I think I just want… I don’t know. I want it to go away.” He hung his head dejectedly. 

“Me too.” Richie said softly.

“Eddie? I have your food.” Stan’s voice accompanied the sudden knock on the door. Richie jumped up quickly to open it and retrieve the long-awaited sustenance.

“Thanks Stan-the-Man, we’ll be out in a little while.” Richie flashed a thin grin before plucking the glass and fruit out of Stan’s hand. He looked confused, and was considering asking, but decided against it with a sigh. 

“Okay… cool.” Stan shrugged as the door closed. 

“Room service is here.” Richie joked in a sing-song voice as he crossed back over to where Eddie sat giggling in the tub.

“Gee, thanks.” He said as he gratefully accepted the food. He downed the glass of water quickly before starting in on the banana. Richie resumed his position from earlier.

“You know we’re gonna take care of you, right?” Richie said after a few quiet moments of Eddie eating. He gave Richie a quizzical look, prompting him to continue. “Whatever’s happening with you. And Bill, and me… we’ll get through it together, okay?”

Eddie paused at the soft, pleading look on Richie’s face, almost like he was trying to reassure himself.

“Okay.”

He smiled then, and for Richie, that was comfort enough.

 

_____________________________________________________________________________

 

“Y-you wanted to see me, m-momma?” Bill said quietly as he rounded the corner into the kitchen. His hair was still slightly damp from the rain, but he was dressed in a dry henley and pair of plaid pajamas from his dresser. 

“Hi sweetie, yeah, I did.” She said absentmindedly as she fiddled with the stove dials, then taking a pot off the burner. “I just wanted to check up on you.” She wiped her hands on her jeans as she crossed the kitchen, placing the back of her hand on his forehead. “You feeling sick still?”

“A-a-actually, I th-think I’m better now.” Bill forced a smile. “It f-felt good to g-g-get out of the house today.” 

She returned the warm smile, her hand coming up to fix his hair.  His mother frowned as her fingers met moisture. 

“Did you just take a shower?” 

“N-no.” Bill laughed nervously. “We got caught out in the r-r-rain.”

His mother squinted at him, examining.

“It didn’t rain today. It’s been clear for hours.”

“Oh, well, it r-rained up at the qu-qu-quarry when we were th-there.” Bill shrugged, confusion in the back of his mind.

“Huh.” She dropped her hands, thoughts briefly wondering how she could have missed a storm cloud heading to the mountains in the west. “Are Richard and Eddie with you guys? I didn’t see them come in. I thought Stan said the whole gang would be here tonight.” She changed the subject as she moved to the counter to begin preparing the loaf of garlic bread she’d laid out. 

“They’re here.” Bill said casually, swallowing the nervous lump in his throat. “Y-you just m-m-must have m-m-missed them.”  _ Damn stutter _ , he thought,  _ you’re gonna give me away. _

“Oh good. Food will be done in just a bit, so you all get dry and come to the table, okay?”

“Okay.” Bill nodded.

“And tell your brother on the way up?” She added just as he was leaving the room.

“Yeah. Sure th-thing. Love you.”

“I love you too, Billy.”

 

_____________________________________________________________________________

 

After a particularly awkward but very delicious spaghetti dinner with the Denbroughs, the gang trudged up to Bill’s room and formed their Serious Discussion Circle once more, this time with Eddie, Richie, and Mike on the bed. Though he’d maintained after his bath and second helping of noodles that he was feeling infinitely better, they ( _ Richie _ ) were still babying him excessively. He was wrapped in one of Bill’s dad’s old hoodies, which was too large for both of them, and Bill’s black sweatpants with the holes in the sides he refused to get rid of. Everyone in the room was wearing similar outfits, all with mostly dry hair, except Stan and Richie, whose curls had decided to trap the moisture indefinitely. The room was heavy with things unsaid, Eddie painfully aware that their silence was an expectant one. Richie had been magnetically hovering near him the whole night, never more than an inch or so away, and the space was charged, like a live wire between them. If Eddie hadn’t been so exhausted from the stress, he’d probably be stressing out about it.

_ Nope. Don’t want to think about that right now. Nope. _

“If you guys are waiting for me to explain, you’re gonna be waiting a long time cause I have no explanation.” Eddie said, praying this conversation would help banish the thoughts he was definitely  _ not  _ having.

“We’re aware of that Eddie, it’s okay.” Bev said reassuringly. “I think everyone’s just as confused. We’re not blaming you for anything.” She added, saying just what he needed to hear in that moment, with a small, casual smile like she hadn’t just hit the nail so hard and so swiftly. He stared at her, the ensuing silence like cotton in his ears as he absorbed what she said. Mike watched him with a curious expression from the foot of the bed, studying before he spoke. 

“You’ve been really defensive about this whole thing.” He said plainly, almost eliciting protests from the group. But they all remained silent, knowing damn well that when Mike was on to something, he’d get there, and you’d want to be there with him. 

Eddie only looked down at the hands folded in his lap.

“Is there any particular reason you’re pushing so hard against this?” Mike said softly, earning pinched eyebrows of confusion from a few of the group. “I mean, I’m not exactly a believer in all this weird shit going on, but I have my reasons. I’m not just being skeptic for the hell of it.” He looked to the side, collecting his thoughts. “You’re obviously experiencing… something, most of us are, and it’s pretty clear it’s abnormal. But you want to ignore it, or deny it’s happening, and you’ll hardly let us help you. I just wanna know why, Eddie. We’re your friends. We  _ want _ to help you, especially with things like this. Is it an issue of trust? Are you afraid? Is it…” He gave Eddie a cautious look before continuing. “Something to do with your mom?”

Eddie sat stunned, a million thoughts racing through his mind, trying to decide which part to respond to. He wanted to scoff, maintain he wasn’t being defensive. He wanted to get angry, to say “how  _ dare _ ” Mike presume his responses. He wanted to break down and cry, sobbing yes on repeat,  _ yes, it’s an issue of trust, yes I’m scared,  _ **_yes it’s her._ **

In the end, he just nodded, settling on one sentence to surmise it all.

“Whenever something is going on with me, she treats it like it’s my fault.”

When the sound of his shaking voice exited the room, it left a vacuum of silence even Richie didn’t try to fill, knowing full well his meager words would be swallowed by the void. Each sat stunned into stillness, pieces slotting into place as they began to truly comprehend his behavior. Suddenly it was obvious to everyone in the room; Eddie had been so defensive and guarded his whole life because he associated an admittance of issue with an admittance of fault. 

“Well, fuck.” Richie breathed out beside him, the weight of realization sitting on his chest like a brick. He threw a comforting arm around Eddie’s shoulders. “Anyone up for a game of cards to lighten the mood?” 


	7. chapter 6 - june

Bleary eyes blinked sleep away for a few moments before focusing in the dim early morning light. Bill laid stoic in sleep, arms tucked under his head in an attempt to make the makeshift bed and pillow underneath him more comfortable. Just past him were the tangled shapes of Richie and Eddie, a lumpy mess beneath Bill’s comforter where they’d passed out in his bed.

Stan gave a small smile, heart blooming at the sight of his softly sleeping friends. A slow glance at Bill’s window told him it was near four in the morning, maybe closer to five now that they’d passed the summer solstice. As he stretched slowly he saw Bev’s curls pillowed on Ben’s chest, just beside him on Bill’s floor. He heard more than saw Mike’s snoring form closer to the corner of the room, where he’d camped under Bill’s desk as he often chose to do. He was surprised Mike wasn’t already awake; they were the resident early risers of the group, and were often up before the others for a good couple of hours. They always shared meaningful talks of dreams and occasionally a cup of coffee with Bill’s dad if they ran into him getting ready for work. But each nasally snore that filled the room was undoubtedly Mike’s, as he was also their resident bulldozer.

Stan settled back into his original position, pillowing his head as he yawned. His gaze landed again on Bill’s face, chin cast aglow by the rapidly increasing sunlight. It was like someone had cast a lantern into the chest of a statue, illuminating his face in a glorious halo. He could see in stark detail the years Bill’s visage retained, the pimple scars and peachfuzz shining in broadlight. Stan could practically  _ feel _ his heart constrict.

It wasn’t as if the sight was new. Stan had been looking at Bill’s face his whole life, after all, and studied it a lot in the last few days of taking care of him. But every close look kept pulling him back to his conclusion, screaming in neon letters in front of his face.

It was a feeling he couldn’t ignore any longer. But it wasn’t one he could confront either. It would just have to go in that lost cabinet, the file in his mind where he kept all his unapproachable thoughts and memories.

It would just have to sit there.

Mind made up and entirely too awake to resume sleep, he decided to go out for some air. Carefully extracting himself from the covers and his friends proximity, he crossed the room quietly as he could, padding between sleeping bodies. Just as his hand hit the door handle, a voice floated to his ears.

“Hey.”

Stan turned to see the source, finding no one on the floor disturbed. When his eyes found the bed he was surprised to see Richie looking at him over the mound (that he assumed was Eddie) on his chest.

“You going home?” Richie continued in the softest whisper. 

“No, just up early. I was gonna go have a cup of coffee while I waited for you guys.” Stan responded in the same hushed tone.

“Oh, cool. I’ll join you. Just, uh…” He gestured a bit at Eddie’s sleeping form with a free hand. “Gimme a minute to untangle.” He quietly laughed, causing Stan to smile as he nodded. 

“Yeah, okay. I’ll go get it brewing.”

Richie created the “O.K.” gesture with his fingers before Stan closed the door behind him. He descended the stairs as quietly as he could, taking care not to disturb the space in front of Georgie’s room. 

Once in the kitchen, he began brewing the coffee with ease, being entirely too familiar with the Denbrough family kitchen and the whereabouts of all it contained. He had the coffee going in under two minutes. 

This really was his second home, in more ways than one.

“Morning, Staniel.” Richie broke his reverie as he came padding into the kitchen, voice thankfully kept at a lowered volume. 

“It has tact, I’m shocked.” Stan commented plainly, handing him a mug. Richie scrunched up his face, using his signature “I should be insulted but I love you” expression as he accepted it gladly. “You’re up early. Sugar?” 

“Yes, all of it.” Richie sighed as Stan retrieved the container. “And yeah. I wasn’t really asleep that long. I’ve been awake for awhile.”

“Where are your pants?” Stan stopped short of the sink, eyeing Richie’s ensemble for the first time. He’d gone to sleep in one of Bill’s hoodies and a pair of jeans, as Bill ran out of PJ’s, but had woken up in just the hoodie and his boxers. He looked down at his legs, as if he were just now noticing their absence. 

“Oh. Got too hot so I kicked ‘em off.” He shrugged, leaning against the counter. 

“I can see how you would get warm, with Eddie on top of you like that.” Stan raised an eyebrow.

Richie coughed nervously. “Yeah, well, that one’s a little heater, don’t let him fool you.” 

“I’m pretty sure he’s anemic, actually, so the heat is on you.” 

Richie’s fingers tensed briefly around the cup as he maintained eye contact with Bill’s refrigerator.

“I’m fucked, aren’t I.” He said quietly. The coffee maker beeped in response, dark liquid beginning to drip slowly into the carafe. 

“Define ‘fucked’.” Stan asked, settling himself against the dishwasher. 

“I love him,” Richie said plainly, and not for the first time, though this time Stan knew what he meant. “Like, way more than I can handle.”

“I know what you mean.” Stan mumbled as he watched the coffee brew. Richie suddenly turned to look at him, surprised by his tone of voice.

“ _ Stanley _ .” Richie gasped, mocking in an Irritated Mother voice. “Are you keeping something from me?” 

Stan snorted as he turned to Richie again. “Not exactly.”

Richie waited patiently as Stan gathered his thoughts, adopting a more serious stance and neutral expression. 

“You love Eddie… in a romantic way.” Stan questioned cautiously. Richie furrowed his brow; it wasn’t the response he was expecting. 

“I think so.” Richie shrugged. “I sure as hell feel differently towards him than I do anyone else, so I guess it’s romance. I don’t know, I’m nineteen, I don’t know shit about love.” He laughed as he rotated, resting his upper half on his arms on the counter, mug placed between them. “I call it love, cause I guess it sounds right, but I’m not sure.”

“That makes sense.” Stan mirrored his position, watching the sun rise through the small window above the sink. 

“Are you in love?” Richie asked him bluntly, already sensing the direction of the conversation. 

“I think so.” 

The coffee maker beeped again, the brown drips ceasing their rhythm.

“You wanna tell me who?” Richie said with a slight smirk, his tone belaying what little pressure the inquiry held.

Stan reached for the handle of the carafe, shrugging. “You gonna make fun of me if I tell you?”

“What?! Who, me? I would never!” Richie gasped, splaying a hand over his chest. Stan laughed softly as he finished pouring his cup, before grabbing Richie’s and filling it.

“I think… the way you feel for Eddie,” Stan exhaled, bracing himself for the confession on his lips. Richie watched him patiently as he stirred a heap of sugar into his coffee. “...It may be how I feel about Bill.”

Richie’s eyebrows shot up, but he graciously remained silent. He finished preparing his drink and took a sip before speaking.

“Fuck. Aren’t we a pair.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Stan muttered before taking a sip, earning a snort from Richie.

“Think he likes you back?” Richie tried delicately.

“I have no idea.” Stan almost whispered, a weight blooming in his chest. “I’d like to think so, but…”

“You don’t know if he likes boys?” Richie joked.

“I don’t.” Stan laughed. “No clue.”

“Well, I’ll ease your mind with that one.” Richie rejoined, taking another drink.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Stan squinted at him.

“It’s not exactly my thing to share,” Richie raised his hands in defense. “But let’s just say I happen to be privy to some information that results in you… not needing to worry about it.” He finished with a smile.

Stan let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, his shoulders slumping. “Oh.”

They drank in silence for a beat, before Stan spoke curiously.

“Do you think Eddie likes you?”

“Is it weird to say I kind of do?” Richie drained the rest of his cup, reaching out to pour another. “I mean, I’m not trying to be vain or anything, but I feel like I’m picking up  _ some _ kind of signal. I don’t know, it could be rose-colored-glasses, but we have  _ something _ between us, right?” He looked at Stan pleadingly.

“I’d say.” Stan glanced at Richie’s bare legs. 

Richie flushed crimson.

“Anyways,” He started pointedly. “I think the problem is that he doesn’t want to admit it to himself.” Richie sighed, spooning sugar. “When I was over the other day, he like… I dunno. I think he was on the verge of coming out to me. But he can’t even say it. So I don’t think he’ll ever get around to acknowledging feeling anything for me.” He took a long drink, before shrinking in on himself. “I don’t want to push him into anything, but-” 

“I’m gonna stop you there.” Stan put a hand on his shoulder, mug abandoned. “You’re gonna wanna stick with the first half of that sentence. You don’t need to push at all. Let him come to terms with it on his own time.” 

“I didn’t mean-”

“I know Richie, but I also know you. The best you can do is be patient with him.”

“You’re right.” Richie sighed, defeated. “It just hurts.” He added with a small voice. “To love someone so close so much and just… not have them.”

Stan closed a hand around Richie’s fist atop the counter.

“I know.”

 

__________________________________________________________________________________ 

 

“So we’ve pretty much ruled out nothing, is what you’re saying.” Mike countered with a sigh, standing with his hands braced on the dining room table. Mid-morning sunlight filled the space, outlining his figure with a soft halo. His face was pinched from frustration and a poor night's sleep; turns out the space under Bill’s desk was not the most comfortable.

“How could we have? Our trip was fruitless.” Ben said plainly from the head of the table, where he was playing mediator. Eddie’s shoulder’s dropped at the comment. Ben placed a placating hand on his arm. “Hey, it’s okay, things happen.”

“So should some of us go back?” Richie put in, turning to face them better, one shoulder supporting him as he leaned on the wall. “I’m not sending Eddie back, but maybe a few-”

“You don’t get to dictate whether or not I can go.” Eddie turned in his seat next to Ben to glare daggers at Richie. 

“Yeah I do. You’re so not. No way I’m letting you puke-faint again. I don’t care how pissy you get about it.” He tacked on, folding his arms in response to the defiant look on Eddie’s face. “You’re not changing my mind.”

Eddie turned around, aiming his murderous expression at the table.

Stan took a deep breath, his reprimand for Richie being pushed down into his gut.  _ You told yourself you wouldn’t get into it _ , he reminded himself.

“A small search party is an option. But I’d also like to remind you that I don’t remember exactly where it fell, and I doubt you guys do.”

Bill squinted at him for a moment, before something dawned on him.

“Didn’t it disappear after the explosion?”

Ben blinked a bit at Bill’s perfect clarity. “I think so. But I’m gonna be honest, a lot of that night is fuzzy for me. I don’t remember it clearly.”

“Me either.” Beverly nodded.

“I think it’s that way for all of us.” Stan sighed, moving to finally sit at the table across from Eddie.

“I don’t remember anything.” Eddie confessed in a small voice after a beat. “I don’t know what ‘it’ is that you guys are talking about.”

“You don’t remember the stone we found?” Richie asked incredulously, pushing off of the wall to stand over Eddie’s shoulder.

“Stone?” Eddie looked up at him perplexed.

“There was a stone, wasn’t there?” Richie pitched to the group, earning scattered nods. “The glowy blue one?” 

“I th-think it w-was kinda green.” Bill shrugged, deep in thought.

“And it exploded.” Bev finished. “Didn’t it? We ended up sprawled all over the field, I remember that.” 

“I kinda do too.” Mike admitted, his mind still having a hard time accepting all the ludicrousy.

“The camera.” Ben said suddenly, face lighting up. “I took pictures!” The group looked to him excitedly. “I’ll get the film developed today, before my shift. Maybe that’ll tell us something.”

“Should we meet back tonight?” Bev asked. “We can go to mine.”

“I’m not gonna be able to.” Eddie admitted. “I was barely able to get permission for tonight.” 

“Eddie, you’re nineteen years old, you don’t need permission from your mother to do anything-” Richie began frustratedly.

“She’s started locking my door again, Rich.” 

Richie startled.

“What do you mean, ‘again’?” Mike squinted at him. 

“Oh. Right. You weren’t here for that time.” Stan sighed. It was hard for any of them to remember the days before Beverly and Mike and Ben came to make them whole, but for the four boys there was a visceral pain when they remembered some of the worse times Eddie had endured.

“E-ed’s mom used t-to lock him in his r-r-room.” Bill said dejectedly, face falling.

Mike gave Eddie and incredulous look.

“That’s fucked up.”

Eddie nodded, snorting in amusement.

“Yup.”

“She really did it again?” Richie inquired softly, aghast.

“When I got home, after you called me the other day. Because she didn’t want me to call you back.”

Richie was speechless.

“Why don’t we phone tree.” Ben suggested calmly, attempting to eat away at the thick silence.

“That won’t work either. You guys will just have to fill me in the next time you see me.” Eddie shrugged.

“How do we know we’ll get a next time.” Richie put in angrily. Eddie refused to answer. 

“Let’s just take it one day at a time, Rich.” Stan gave him a placating look. “Let’s adjourn, I have to be home soon and Mike has work. We’ll phone tree tonight and whoever sees Eddie next will fill him in.”

Richie scuffed the toe of his ratty boots on the tile floor. 

“Sounds like a fucking plan.”

 

_____________________________________________________________________________

 

_ “Fuck this cheap beer, it tastes like piss.” Bony fingers curled around the empty tin can, squeezed, then tossed the crumpled results as far to the side as minimum effort could allow. “Steal something better next time.” _

_ “If there was anything better to take, I fucking would have.” The statement was punctuated with a particularly lengthy belch. _

_ “Hey. Quit the bitching. I think I saw something.” _

_ “Fuckin’ what?” _

_ “Some kind of light. Could be pigs.” _

_ “Or your dad-” _

_ “Shut the fuck up, cocksucker.” Angry eyes glared through the dim moonlight. _

_ “Christ Henry, no need to get personal.” Patrick Hockstetter leered, drunkenly mocking his crony.  _

_ “It was through the trees.” The small voice of Victor Criss sounded from out in front of them. _

_ “Let’s go the other way, then.” Belch Huggins suggested, jerking his head back where they’d come from. _

_ “No.” The ring leader, one Henry Bowers, decided definitively. “I’m pretty sure those little shits are up there.” He gestured up at the plateau beyond the trees with his chin. “We wanted to have fun, right?” _

_ “The light was probably them.” Patrick’s sick grin began to stretch across his face. _

_ “Probably.” Henry smiled to himself, leading the gang slowly into the trees. _

 

_____________________________________________________________________________

  
  


_ “Holy fuck.” Belch said low under his breath, leaving a wide path between himself and the limp form of Stanley Uris. “What the hell happened?” _

_ “How the fuck am I supposed to know?” Henry spat, surveying the area with a confused expression. For all his talk and aggression, he wasn’t very smart, and was easily vexed by things outside his grasp.  _

_ “Are they drunk?” Patrick called out from his position over Richie Tozier, one of the lanky boys arms held in his hands before he dropped it with a shrug, curious over the lack of response.  _

_ “Think they’d all pass out at the same time?” Victor squinted at him mockingly, toeing Ben Hanscom’s shoe.  _

_ “It had to be that fucking light. It was probably an explosion.” Belch said from his position on the treeline, refusing to go nearer to the kids. “They could be fucking dead guys, lets get out of here.” _

_ “If it was an explosion we would have felt it, dipshit.” Henry chided again, eyes still roaming over the bodies strewn over the field. Patrick straightened out and did the same, eyes landing on an object sizzling near the unconscious body of Eddie Kaspbrak.  _

_ “The hell is that?” He called, pointing to it as he started making his way over. Henry, being closer, beat him there, but kept his attention trained on the boy. When Patrick arrived, he went straight for the rock, whose light had gone dormant. “This thing’s fuckin’ sick.” He muttered to himself as he examined it. Their curiosities piqued, Victor and Belch came to join.  _

_ “What is it?” Victor asked as he watched Patrick turn the rock over in his hands.  _

_ “See for yourself.” He said nonchalantly as he tossed it over his shoulder, Victor scrambling to catch it. He and Belch began to examine it, passing it back and forth, before it ended up in Belch’s pocket. Patrick stood even with Henry, joining him as he glowered down at Eddie. _

_ “Fucking little faggot boy.” Henry said quietly, eyes trained on Eddie’s face with a deadly, unwavering concentration.  _

_ “What’chyu wanna do to ‘em?” Patrick encouraged in the same low voice. _

_ “Haven’t come up with it yet. But I want this one awake for it.” Henry’s eyes flashed, the only brief giveaway before he was moving, his foot coming up to collide with the side of Eddie’s abdomen, a jarring action that should have instantly awoken someone from their slumber. The boy did not stir, and the two standing above him and their cronies just behind watched in growing horror as a small trickle of blood started leaking out of his ear. _

_ “Oh my god.” Belch whispered, stomach churning. _

_ “I think they really got fucked up, Henry.” Victor voiced his concern as he reached out, almost to pull the other back. _

_ “We should get the fuck out of here.” Belch repeated. _

_ “Quit being such a pussy!” Henry yelled, but his expression betrayed his nervousness. Victor quickly scrambled his brain for an idea to get Henry to budge, sensing he was on the edge. _

_ “C’mon, my parents have a liquor cabinet we can raid, let’s just get trashed.” He suggested, feeling deeply unsettled by Patrick’s silence at trying to persuade Henry to leave. _

_ “Fuckin’ fine. I’m not in the mood anyway.” _

_ Belch sighed in relief as he turned to move away immediately, followed first by Henry, who so often refused to be at the back of a pack. Victor waited until Patrick finally tore his eyes off of Eddie’s prone form, and followed him behind the other two.  _

_ On the way out of the clearing, Henry demanded Belch show him the rock, which he began to carry for some time, and Patrick spat a heaping glob of phlegm on Stanley’s chest. _


	8. chapter 7 - june

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this has been slow to update! come hang out with me on tumblr @tohzier

“Your transmission is good as new, Mrs. Anderson.” Mike greeted the customer with a smile. “The check engine light is off, but if it pops back on again you come right back in.” The woman nodded as Mike wiped his hands clean on a rag. He then turned to the register, typing up a set of commands. “I’ve got a free oil change coupon here for you,” He said as he pulled a card from a pile. “And if you make a follow up appointment with me, if anything else is going wrong, I can give you a twenty percent discount.” He told her with a winning grin as the register began printing a receipt. The woman smiled ecstatically, pulling out a wad of cash. 

“Thank you so much, Michael.” She counted out bills, sliding some of them over. “Here’s for the service,” She slid another pile. “And here’s for you.” 

“Oh- thanks ma’am, but we don’t ask for tips-” 

“I know you don’t honey, but you’ve been takin’ such good care of me. I appreciate it.” She winked.

“Well thank you. It’s all part of the job.” He nearly blushed; nothing failed to warm his heart quite like receiving praise for a job well done. 

“One you are damn good at. Thank you again sweetie.” The woman gave him one last beaming grin as she took her keys and exited the shop, nearly bumping into Ben as he entered.

“Another satisfied customer, eh?” Ben joked after the door swung shut. 

“That’s twenty. I win.” Mike tallied on the sheet of paper they had taped up near the register. 

“Oh no, that’s undeclared. I haven’t even clocked on yet.” Ben shook his head, crossing behind the counter to follow Mike into the back of the auto repair shop they both worked in. 

“Yeah, but you have an evening shift. You’ll be lucky if you even see ten customers.” Mike goaded, resting on the breakroom table. Ben removed his shoulder bag and set it on the surface.

“How long you got left?”

Mike glanced at the clock.

“‘Bout forty-five minutes.”

“Any jobs going?”

“Nope. That was my last.”

“Lot’s empty.” Ben commented, before ducking around the small building, checking for any wandering patrons or employees. When he deemed it clear, he returned to the breakroom and closed the door partially. 

“I got the photos developed.” 

“Ah. That’s why the secrecy.” Mike crossed his arms, settling himself in a chair as Ben began pulling photos out of his bag and spreading them on the table.

“I just don’t want to get caught slacking.” Ben shrugged.

“Yeah, because you’re notorious for slacking.” Mike snorted. “Ben Hanscom, laziest man in the world.” 

Ben shot him a withering look. “Anyways…” He spread a collection of shots out, Mike leaning over to look. “Most of the pictures on the roll weren’t of any consequence, I’m gonna give the rest to Richie to put on his wall. But these that we got of the rock are the ones I think we should focus on.” He pointed to the shot of the stone balanced between Bill and Stan’s hands. “Like here. The coloration isn’t super clear because of the low-quality film, but it appears to be brighter and greener in the center of the underneath.”

Mike raised an eyebrow at him. “Look buddy, that’s an astute observation and all, but I honestly have no idea what that correlates to.”

Ben deflated a little. 

“Well… yeah. Fair point.” 

“Do we even have a hunch to go off of or anything?”

“Not really, no.” Ben conceded.

“Okay.” Mike nodded. “I don’t want to be the Negative Nelly here, but I’ve been doing some thinking.” Ben gave him a look that was somewhere between ‘oh god here we go’ and ‘continue, I’m morbidly curious’, tinged with a bit of ‘i can’t believe you just used the phrase Negative Nelly’. Mike crossed his arms with a sigh before continuing. “Say this rock really is some shit from space, that Richie’s hypothesis is accurate. Which, I’m not saying I believe,” Mike interjected at Ben’s look of surprise. “Because I don’t. But say he’s right. What is there that we can really do about it?” Ben furrowed his brow, prompting Mike to continue. “I mean, what’re we supposed to do about that? Is there someone we can go to? A hotline we can call?” Ben looked at the table in contemplation. “I doubt the doctors at Derry Medical can give us a pamphlet.” 

“You’ve got a valid point.” 

“Exactly.” 

“So where does that leave us?” Ben looked up at him, his frustration growing.

“What do you mean-”

“What do we  _ do _ , Mike, how do we respond?” 

“Between us Haystack, I don’t think there’s anything to respond  _ to _ .”

“You’re kidding.” Ben said incredulously. 

“Nope.” Mike shook his head. “I’ll level with you Ben, I don’t buy it.”

“You don’t buy it?” Ben sputtered. “You saw what happened with Eddie!”

“Eddie probably has a panic disorder.” Mike cut him off. “And as far as Bev’s vision, or whatever, I’ll give that the benefit of the doubt. Psychic I can swallow. But frankly I don’t believe Bill and Richie.”

“You don’t believe them?”

“Richie has a flair for the dramatics, as we all know,” Mike rolled his eyes. “And doesn’t really take well to not being the center of attention. And Bill’s been such a mess since we graduated that I really don’t find it unreasonable to say he’s being delusional.”

“You really don’t believe them.” Ben muttered in disbelief.

“No, I don’t. But that’s not really the point of the conversation.”

“What exactly is your point then?” Ben stood up straight and crossed his arms defensively. “I’m not finding it.”

“My point is this; assuming you’re all right,” Mike began gesturing smoothly with his hands as he spoke. “Which I am just pointing out I do not agree with. Regardless, and I think this holds true either way, there isn’t really anything to be done. Maybe this will pass, maybe it’ll get worse. Who knows. But in my opinion it’s a waste of time to sit around and try to figure out why. No one, as far as I’m aware, knows how to deal with this kind of shit, so I say… Roll with it.” He ended with a shrug.

“Roll with it.” Ben repeated, tone flat. 

“Whatever happens, happens. Let’s just focus on dealing with whatever comes of it, instead of running around like headless chickens trying to find out how we got here. We’re here. Let’s just roll with it.”

Ben paused for a minute.

“You know what? Yeah. Okay. That’s- that’s solid. I’ll write that into the itinerary.” 

 

_____________________________________________________________________________

 

Stan returned to his room after the phone call from Ben with his head spinning. In a sense, he felt almost relieved Mike had given a solid argument, one that made Stan rethink his entire position on the whole thing. Honestly? He was  _ right _ . There really was no point in hypothesizing. He was bit angry that Mike flat-out did not believe Bill’s story (of which he had personally become convinced was true) but could easily reconcile why. It was a lot to swallow, every bit of it as irrational as the last.

Stan almost kicked himself as he kicked off his shoes.  _ I can’t believe I was being so thick about this, _ he thought to himself. _ It’s a huge waste of our time to even attempt to decipher this. We’ve got to just move on and take what comes.  _

He began undoing his belt, crossing the room to retrieve his pajamas from the dresser. He changed quickly, his head running a mile a minute as he tried to wrap it around the insane twists his life had taken. 

_ I’m supposed to be stressing over a summer assignment, not this shit. _ He sighed outwardly.  _ I should just do more of that stupid required reading.  _

Stan sat on the edge of his bed, absentmindedly reaching for the novel on his nightstand. His fingers found empty space. Frowning, he searched the floor for the book. He thought maybe it had fallen, but to his surprise, when he sat back up the book was hovering in front of his face. 

He yelled in shock, scrambling backwards across his bed until he hit the wall. He watched in horror as the novel maintained its altitude, wobbling as though it were being held by a nervous puppeteer. 

“Oh my God.” Stan breathed, his hands flying up to grasp his hair. As they moved, the book soared violently up to the ceiling, colliding with the surface with a thud before falling limply onto the carpet. Stanley sat there stunned for what seemed like an eternity before his father was opening the door after a cursory knock. 

“Everything alright in here?”

Stan shook off the shock, eyeing the book’s crumpled form. 

“Uh, nothing, Dad, my book just fell is all.” He swallowed nervously. 

“Alright.” The man leveled his son with a confused look. “Um, goodnight then.”

“Goodnight.” Stan responded calmly, releasing all of the tension from his shoulders with a heavy exhale as the door clicked. He spent a few moments regulating his breathing, trying to reconcile with this new development. He decided just to attempt to sleep it off. He reached over to the nightstand, flipping off the light and not bothering to pick up the book from where it lay. As he settled down to sleep, he kept repeating Ben’s parting remarks from Mike over and over again in his head like a mantra.

_ Roll with it. _

 

_____________________________________________________________________________

 

Beverly’s keys jingled, a light airy noise, as they landed in the dish just inside her bedroom. She sighed heavily, shrugging off her heavy bag, which landed on her floor with a lump. She attempted to shake out the after-work stiffness, already knowing her legs would be sore the next day.  _ At least I have the morning off _ , she thought.  _ I can sleep the fuck in.  _

She began her nightly routine, business as usual. The only thing amiss was that she couldn’t call Ben, due to his closing shift. 

She was absently staring into the mirror as she brushed her teeth when it happened. 

All the air rushed out of her lungs in a swift, singular action. Her vision clouded over again, her reflected look of fear being replaced by a singular image. 

A clear sky, overcast dissipating at the edges of it, with a shimmering rainbow stretched across it. 

As quickly as it had come it fell away, leaving her winded with toothpaste dribbling down her chin. 

She went to bed a quivering mess, cursing the very existence of the night shift. 

 

_____________________________________________________________________________

  
  


“Never have I ever… kissed someone.” 

“Ah, come on!” Mike blurted, tossing a jelly bean into his mouth. “Never?!” Apparently it was safe, as he quickly chewed and swallowed.

“Nope.” Eddie popped the ‘P’ with a shrug.

“Ever wanted to?”

“Well duh, I just haven’t gotten the chance.”

“Take it from me bud, you don’t really get ‘chances’, you kinda gotta just make it happen.”

“Because you’re such an expert.” Eddie kicked a stray rock as they walked, sending it flying off the road.

“I’ve had my fair share.” Mike threw his hands up with a laugh. They continued on in peaceful silence for a few moments as Mike pondered his turn. “Never have I ever… snuck out of the house.” 

“Dammit.” Eddie thrust his hand into the mystery bag of jellybeans, praying fervently under his breath he wouldn’t draw liquorice. He popped the bean into his mouth as Mike giggled. _ Watermelon. Safe.  _ “You did that just to get me.” 

“You’re the one who’s doing it.” Mike countered.

“How else do you think I could see you guys?” Eddie griped. “Besides, haven’t you?” He held out the bag of beans accusingly. 

“Nope.” Mike mimicked him from before. “Never needed to.  _ Myyyyy  _ parents trust me.” He joked. 

“Gee, I wonder what that’s like.” Eddie pouted, only half kidding. 

“What do you want to do for the rest of the day?” Mike changed the subject, stealing a handful of beans from Eddie’s retracted hand, much to the smaller boy’s chagrin. He began picking out the black liquorice pieces, tossing them over his shoulder. “Bev and Ben said they wouldn’t be free until later this afternoon. I haven’t heard from anyone else.” 

“I don’t know, I don’t have an agenda.” Eddie enacted his revenge by quickly grabbing a red bean from Mike’s open palm. He smiled wickedly as Mike glowered at him, eating the candy quickly. 

“Wanna catch a movie?”

“I’m broke.”

“And I’m not, so, what do you want to see?” 

“You’re not buying me a movie ticket.”

“You’re not stopping me, action or comedy?”

“Mike-”

“ _ Eddie _ .”

Eddie stopped with a huff. “You’re a jerk.”

“Why, cause I’m being nice to you?” Mike gave him a classic Mischievous Mike grin, one he loved to use on his friends. It had its own special way of communicating both innocence and the pride of a pigeon pulling off a garbage heist. Eddie theorized this grin was the reason Mike could get away with pretty much anything. 

“Hey Belch,” A sour voice suddenly cut through the peace of their stroll, the tone of it making both boys shiver with discomfort. “Check out the meat market.” 

“Don’t acknowledge them, Eddie.” Mike said through gritted teeth, expression stoic as he sobered his gait and soldiered on in his walk. Eddie quickly tightened his grip on the bag of candy in his fist as he followed after Mike with a similar pace. 

“They don’t really seem that friendly today.” The voice continued, belonging to a face Eddie knew he could never forget. The statement was followed by a particularly grating laugh, punctuated with a gnarly belch. Eddie gut twisted as he sped up. “Should we give them a reason to come and play?” The voice continued, sickly sweet. 

Eddie’s feet came to a halt when he heard the all too familiar tinny rattling of a hairspray can.

Mike stopped and turned back, eyeing the two boys who stood a few yards down the rural street from them. 

“Fuck off, would ya?” Mike used his most authoritative voice, good for herding cattle. Eddie stayed stock-still, refusing to turn around. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you.” Belch spat, followed by a slur that made Eddie flinch. Mike’s twitch in response was almost imperceptible, but Eddie noticed. 

“What I’d like is for you to leave us alone and mind your own damn business.” Mike squared his shoulders and stood straighter, his best intimidation tactics on full display. 

“Well I’m in the business of beating little bitches like you.” Patrick began stepping closer, pace casual but with purpose, like a cat stalking its prey. “You two fairies on a date or something? Want some privacy so the little one can blow you?”

Quick as lightning, it was there again. The bone-deep terror took hold of Eddie so swiftly he swears it was a miracle he didn’t collapse. Suddenly everywhere his eyes darted, he was seeing flashes of red and yellow, like flood lights illuminating his surroundings.  _ Danger. We’re in danger. _

“I’ll give you one more chance to fuck off.” Mike ignored the comment, catching Eddie’s change in demeanor out of the corner of his eye. Belch’s callous laughter was the only response. 

Eddie could barely focus enough on what was going on around him through the sheer blind panic to hear the sound of the clicking lighter. Before he could gather himself enough to react, rough hands collided with his shoulder blades. He went toppling forward, harshly landing on his chin as the bag of candy flew out of his hands and scattered all over the road. He was too stunned to register the split and bleeding skin on his chin, or Belch’s satisfied laughter above him. He could only tremble as the colors kept swirling, red and yellow jelly beans rolling in front of his face as he gasped for air.

Mike leapt into action immediately, diving in Eddie’s direction. He was halted by a sudden bout of searing flames. He scrambled backwards, feet losing traction as they slid over the candy. Mike fell backwards on his ass, face contorted in thinly concealed fear as he stared up at Patrick, his makeshift flamethrower poised and ready to strike again. Eddie feebly attempted to push himself up with his arms, but was thwarted by Belch’s boot in his back. 

“Now this is better.” Patrick said over Eddie’s noise of pain. 

The hairspray can was shook, then pointed directly at Mike’s face.

He brought an arm up, thinking briefly of how he’d be able to explain the scars.

And the heat didn’t come.

He heard the flames, the rushing air released out of the canister creating a whooshing din. His closed eyes grew brighter behind their lids as the light in front of him burst.

But nothing scorched his arm.

Squinting an eye open, he could tell he was staring directly into a huge stream of fire, one that should be easily engulfing his outstretched arm.

_ Except it wasn’t. _

Mike’s eyes widened in shock as he watched the flames slide around his skin, as if a film of protective liquid had been poured over his limb. The sensation was almost akin to dipping his hand in melted wax.

The flames died, revealing Patrick’s face, which quickly shifted from manic glee to mortified confusion. 

Mike took advantage of the brief pause to scramble to his feet, hoping to at least regain equal footing. Both boys were so dumbfounded they could not even speak, but Mike could tell from the expression on Patrick’s face that he was gearing up to strike again. 

He threw both of his hands up, palms outward in protection. He refused to duck or cower, hoping this strange occurrence would afford him some ground to step forward. He felt the waxy tingling on his hands again, and pressed back, subconsciously willing the barrage to stop. 

Instead of ceasing, they reversed their trajectory, quickly reaching Patrick’s hands.

He screamed in pain, dropping the lighter and spray can in a frenzy as he held his fingers close to his chest. For one defiant moment he looked as though he was strongly considering attempting to strangle Mike with them, burns be damned. But at Belch’s exclamation of “holy  _ FUCK _ !”, he simply turned tail and ran, the larger bully just steps behind him. 

Eddie slowly started to stir, getting back to his feet progressively as the vibrant violent colors dominating his vision faded. He turned to face Mike, who was stock still as he stared down at his palms. After a moment or two, he slowly looked up and made eye contact with Eddie. 

The two took off in a sprint, leaving the half empty overturned bag of beans strewn about the roadside. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you guys for waiting so patiently for the next update! sorry it’s been awhile. hope this one is exciting for y’all. for those that are wondering about the candy in the last scene; they’re playing a game i decided the losers would love playing bc its my story and i can do what i want lmao. the basis of it is they love playing games like never have i ever but they also like when there are consequences, and since they can’t often play it as a drinking game they came up with the jelly beans. they go to the candy store, get an even mix of all the flavors, then fill the bag with black liquorice beans, so the ratio is ½ of the bag mixed good flavors to ½ of the bag black liquorice. the bag can’t be clear, because if you lose a round of never have i ever, or whatever other game they’re playing, you reach in and get a mystery bean and risk eating a black liquorice one. they hate playing with richie and ben, because those two actually like black liquorice, the bastards. one time they made richie eat some dirt when he lost instead of the beans (which he was uncomfortably okay with). only two more chapters before a special interlude!


	9. chapter 8 - june

“Someone’s knockin at yer back door, Stanny.”

“Couldn’t kill you to answer it?”

“Not my house.”

“Well  _ you’re _ not getting any of  _ my _ pizza, then.” Stan griped as he marked his place and set down his novel before crossing the room.

“Wait, you ordered pizza?!” Richie extracted himself from his position on Stan’s bed, where he had been reading comics upside down. 

“You’d know if you got the door.” Stan called over his shoulder as he descended the stairs. Another knock rang through the empty house. 

“Coming dear!” Richie yelled with a ridiculous trill as he attempted to slide down the bannister.

“Don’t break yourself. I don’t want your blood on my carpet.” Stan yanked Richie’s sleeve, returning the wily boy to his feet. 

“Buzzkill.” Richie muttered, crossing his arms as he followed Stan sullenly.

“Reason you’re still alive?” Stan quirked an eyebrow, walking backwards with a finger pointed at himself.

“Touche, douche.” Richie rhymed under his breath as they crossed the kitchen. 

“Heard that.” Stan commented as he opened the door. 

“Hey.” 

Stanley and Richie’s eyes went comically wide as they took in the sight on Stan’s back doorstep. Before them stood a disheveled Mike and Eddie, both sweaty and breathing like they’d ran all the way there. Eddie was holding the collar of his shirt to split and bleeding skin of his chin, droplets of the blood escaping and dripping down his neck, leaving dried trails like lay lines. Mike was smiling almost apologetically, like he was sorry to have stopped by. 

“Got a first aid kit?” Mike broke the silence, smile almost manic as he joked. 

“What the fuck happened?!” Stan inquired, pulling Mike in the room and out of the way before Richie practically launched himself at Eddie, who he promptly shoved over to the sink so he could begin cleaning his wound. 

“It’s a pretty, uh, funny story actually.” Mike said with a strange, nervous laugh. Stan studied him crossly between cupboards he opened in search of some bandages. “Mind if I have a glass of water?” 

“Go ahead.” Stan replied warily, watching Mike grab a cup out of the cabinet to his left with trembling hands. Richie moved Eddie away from the sink as Mike came over, meeting Stan at the kitchen island and grabbing the box of band-aids he’d successfully scavenged. Mike drank three full glasses while Richie diligently attended to Eddie’s chin. Stan and Eddie caught each other’s gazes just once, and at Stan’s questioning eyebrow Eddie only shook his head. Stan waited a moment more before starting in on Mike again. “You gonna tell this funny story?” 

“It’s a real doozy.” Mike braced his hands on the sink, back facing the others.

“I think I can handle it.” 

Mike took a deep breath before turning.

“You want the long or the short of it?”

“Dealer’s choice.”

“I think I just controlled fire with my mind.”

Richie dropped the bandage he was opening.

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah. That’s the short.”

“Does the long explain this?” Richie pointed at Eddie’s band-aid clad chin. 

“If I tell you it involves Hockstetter and Belch, does that answer your question?” 

“Shit. Yeah.” Richie adjusted his glasses reverently, eyes downcast as his mind easily grasped the general specifics. 

“So you what, turned his flamethrower contraption off?” Stan crossed his arms and leaned against the pantry. 

“More like turned it around.” Mike paused to drink more water. “It didn’t burn me.” 

“It touched you?” Mike nodded. “And it didn’t burn.” Another nod. “And you’re sure it was real fire.” Richie continued incredulously. 

“It was. A whole lot of it. And it couldn’t touch me.” 

“Bullshit.” Richie said with awe.

“You literally turned invisible a couple days ago.” Stan glared at Richie.

“Yeah, but- that’s nuts!” 

“More nuts than your thing?” 

Richie qualmed. “No…” 

“So shush. Let the man continue.”

“That’s pretty much all there is to it.” Mike shrugged. “I guess fire can’t burn me anymore.”

“Let’s test it.” Richie pulled a lighter out of his jean pocket. “Experimentation.” 

Mike spoke at the same time as Stan, his acquiescence overlapping Stanley’s protests. 

“It’s fine, Stan.” Mike repeated, stepping over to Richie with an outstretched arm. 

“What if it was just a fluke?” Stan folded his hands in concern. 

“It’s just a tiny little Bic, what can it do?” Mike said casually as Richie flicked on the flame. 

“You sure?” Richie asked, lighter in one hand and Mike’s arm in the other.

“Go right ahead.”

Richie watched Mike’s face with pinched eyebrows, disbelief and uncertainty on his face. He titled the flame to touch skin, eyes going wide as Mike did not flinch. 

“Nothing?” Richie pressed the flame into Mike’s skin, which was not burning or bubbling as all laws of physics deemed it should.

“It feels like hot wax, but not super hot wax.” Mike took another sip of his water with his free hand.

“Are you the wax in this equation?” Richie questioned as he moved the flame up and down the length of Mike’s forearm.

“I think so?” 

“Fucking hell.” Richie sighed as he let go of the trigger, pocketing the lighter once more. “Of course you get a useful power.” He complained as he stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“The fuck do you mean?”

“I mean that’s what this whole thing is, right? We’re all getting superpowers or something! And I get this bullshit where some of my organs go see-through, and it hurts like a bitch, mind you, and you get to be fire-retardant! Stan can fuckin’, I don’t know, levitate things, which is helpful-”

Stan and Mike spoke over each other again.

“Stan can what?”

“You’ve been reading too many comic books.”

Stan looked guilty after he realized what Mike had said over his comment.

“Oh. Uh, yeah. Last night. My book was floating.”

“That’s it?” 

“I made it fly into the ceiling.”

“Did it stay there?”

“No, it fell.” 

“Who cares if it stayed up there? Point is Stanley actually gets something that doesn’t suck-”

“Eddie, you’ve been weirdly quiet. Are you okay?” Stan interrupted Richie’s rant, desperately wanting to shift the subject away from himself. Eddie blanched at the sudden question, shuffling his weight awkwardly on his feet. He thought for a moment about saying something, but settled on a shake of his head. “What’s up?” Stan pressed. 

“I’m with Richie.” Eddie said after a moment, voice unsure. Richie definitely didn’t dig his nails into his legs from where his hands were clenched in his pockets in response to the thoughts Eddie saying the phrase  _ I’m with Richie _ conjured. “I got dealt a really shitty hand.” 

Richie swallowed, wishing away the heat in his cheeks. “How so?”

“You know how so!” Eddie went from reserved and shaken to bitterness teetering on the edge of rage in a matter of seconds. “The only ‘power’ I got is being scared so shitless I can’t even fucking move every time something goes wrong!” 

“Eds.” Richie pleaded softly, hoping to head off the explosion he knew was coming.

“You should have seen me today, Richie. I was fucking useless. Mike was about to get barbequed and I just fucking laid there!” 

“Belch was holding you down Eddie, he had his boot in your back-” Mike protested.

“Wait, Belch had his boot in your back? That son of a-” 

“The point is that I’m useless now! Who am I if I can’t protect my friends?!” 

“Eds, you are  _ not _ useless-”

“Richie’s right, Eddie-”

“You don’t  _ get _ it, Stan-”

“Eddie, I don’t think you have a super power.” Mike said firmly, breaking through the chaos of everyone’s voices overlapping. 

“Excuse me?” Eddie blinked at him.

“I don’t think you have a ‘super power’.” Mike air quoted, glancing at Richie. “I think you have a panic disorder.” 

“Mike.” Richie warned quietly, almost subconsciously raising a hand as if to placate a wild animal. Stan stared at him shocked, genuine surprise and fear overtaking him as he worried over the results of the statement.

Eddie went white, his whole body eerily stilling. His eyes started out laser-focused on Mike’s face but began to dart around the room. He tried to form words, his brain working in overdrive as he scrambled over a response. To Richie it looked like he’d short-circuited. 

“I- you- how  _ dare- _ ”

“Eddie, I’m not trying to offend you-”

“How dare you, Michael.” Eddie spat. “You have got to be fucking kidding me right now.”

“I’m not.” Mike stood his ground.

“If I wanted someone to stand here and list a bunch of fake illnesses I don’t have, I’d be at home!” Eddie nearly screamed. Stan clasped a hand over his mouth. Richie swallowed again before laughing nervously. 

“Hah, good one Eds. That’s probably enough with the teasing, though-”

“Shut UP Richard. I’m not fucking around.” Eddie rounded on Mike again. “I can’t believe you, one of my best friends treating me like my fucking mother, trying to find some fucking disease you can blame me on-”

“I am not acting like your mother, Eddie.” Mike yelled back, surprising Stan and Richie with his intensity.

“You know what hurts the most about it?” Eddie pushed on, apparently unaffected by the bite back. “What really gets me about being told I’m  _ sick _ all the time? She says my  _ behavior _ is what makes me sick, the things I  _ do _ or  _ like _ or  _ say _ . It’s not my temperature or my complexion or whether or not I throw up, it’s my fucking personality! To her,  _ I’m the disease! _ And I thought you of all people would see me differently. But it’s clear now you don’t. I’m something you want to cure too.”

“Eddie-” Mike protested feebly, shocked beyond belief.

“I am sorry I was such a useless pile of shit today.” Eddie said through angry tears forming in his eyes. “I feel terrible about how I acted. But you don’t have to be so vicious about it. You don’t have to treat me like a germ.”

With that, Eddie was turning on a heel and leaving, storming out of Stan’s back door as the other’s scrambled after him, Richie yelling for him to come back.

“Let him go.” Mike said calmly, a hand on Richie’s shoulder as the three stood in the doorway. They watched Eddie storm out of the garden, the brand new and almost frighteningly large cactus plant near the door escaping their notice. 

 

__________________________________________________________________________________

  
  


“I’m the world’s worst boyfriend.” 

“Oh come on, Ben.”

“No, I really am. I mean, absolute  _ shit _ .”

“Th-there are p-p-plenty worse boyfr-friends than you out there.” Bill clapped a hand on Ben’s shoulder, smiling at the sight of Ben idly fretting. 

“What kind of asshole waits until a week before an anniversary before they even start  _ thinking _ about a gift?” Ben put his head in his hands, soda and fries forgotten on the bench next to him. He and Bill were on one of their regular excursions to the downtown district of Derry, where they would both get a coke and fries to be eaten as they walked around and windowshopped for all the things they couldn’t afford.

“S-some people forget the d-day entirely.” Bill pointed out, popping a french fry into his mouth. “I did.”

Ben looked up at him incredulously. “You forgot yours and Bev’s anniversary?”

“She b-broke up with me for a reason.” He joked, taking a drink of his soda. Ben laughed at his casual admission.

“No offense, but I’m glad the bars not so high.” Ben said through giggles. 

Bill snorted. “Wh-what bar?” The two broke into fits of laughter, trying their best to contain themselves in public.

“Well, shit.” Ben leaned back, picking up his styrofoam cup of cola and taking a sip. “Guess I’ve only gotta do something mildly impressive.”

“What k-kind of gift are you th-thinking?” Bill tucked a leg under the other as he ate more of his fries.

“It’s cliche as shit, but I was thinking jewelry.” Ben scratched the back of his neck. “I mean, it is only our six-month, but still…” Ben trailed off, Bill watching him intently as he continued to eat. “I’m really fucking serious about her. I wanna get something that says I am.” 

“Jewelry is good, then.” Bill said seriously. 

“What do you think she would like?” Ben asked, vulnerability and desperation clear in his eyes as he locked them with Bill’s. 

“C-can’t go w-w-wrong with a n-necklace.” Bill took another drink. 

“Yeah…” Ben sighed, contemplatively taking a bite of one of his fries. “That doesn’t feel like…  _ special _ enough though.” He finished the fry. “I feel like it should be something, I don’t know,  _ more _ . She deserves it.”

“Yeah she does.” Bill agreed sincerely as he took another drink. The boys sat in silence for a few moments, watching Derry townfolk shuffle around on their nameless errands. 

“Would it be the most embarrassing thing in the world to get her a promise ring?” Ben said after the silence had stretched too far. Bill shook his head, swallowing the fry he was on.

“Nu-uh. I think sh-she’d love that.” 

“Really?” Ben asked nervously. 

“Sh-she told me sh-she did s-s-so, yeah.” Bill grinned. 

“Oh. I didn’t know you guys talked about…” Ben fiddled with his fingers nervously. 

“Y-you guys?” Bill supplied. “B-b-bev and I are still fr-friends, Ben. We talk ab-bout all kinds of stuff.”

“I just didn’t think you’d want to hear about it.” Ben looked at his feet. “I wouldn’t want to if I were you.” 

Bill was silent for a beat, thinking. “You l-liked her when we w-were dating, d-d-didn’t you.” 

“Yeah.” Ben admitted after a breath. “I’ve liked her since we first met.”

“Th-then you really should get th-that ring.” Bill ate his last fry, wiping the grease from his fingers on the corner of his flannel. Ben watched Bill nervously, almost as if he were afraid he’d angered him. “You kn-know I’m not huh-hurt over you g-g-guys dating.”

“You’re not?”

“No. B-bev and I have always b-b-been better off as fr-friends. You guys were suh-supposed to be tog-gether.” Ben’s jaw dropped slightly at the statement as Bill stood up from the bench, garbage clasped in one hand. 

“Bill, it really means a lot to hear you say that.” Ben admitted as he stood as well. 

“Sh-shoulda said it s-s-sooner. It’s always b-b-been true.” Bill shrugged, looking up and down the street at the row of stores. His eyes landed on a pawn shop nestled at the end of the block. “Now c-c-c’mon. Let’s go g-get your girlfriend a pr-promise ring.” 

 

__________________________________________________________________________________

 

“Well that sure was swell, Mikey.” Richie commented bitterly as he paced the Uris living room, a slice of pepperoni pizza in each hand. He had been alternating between the two, taking an angry bite out of one, then the other, then back again.  _ These are technically his third and fourth slices _ , Stan thought after a brief glance at the pizza box. 

“Richie, don’t get pissy with me. If you’re worried about him, go take it up with Eddie.” Mike tore off the end of his breadstick and ate it. 

“You’re the one who pissed him off.” Richie took a bite from the left slice, speaking before swallowing. “You should apologize.”

“For what? Looking out for his best interests? And you should chew with your mouth closed. God, what are you, five?” Mike grumbled before finishing off his breadstick. 

“Je- _ sus _ , Micycle. Bee in your bonnet?” Richie teased, proceeding to take a bite out of the right slice. 

“Forgive me if I’m not in the mood, Tozier.” Mike glared at him.

“Would you two cut it out?” Stan cut in, depositing his pizza crust in the lid of the box. “If you’re gonna keep bickering like this, I’m gonna kick you out.”

“On what grounds?” Richie squinted at him.

“The ‘no-whiny-assholes’ clause.” Stan returned the look as he went for another slice. 

“Sorry.” Mike mumbled as he grabbed another breadstick. 

“I will not yield.” Richie said with a stubborn flourish, polishing off the left slice. Stan rolled his eyes as he shook his head.

“Of course you won’t. Mike, do you think we should have another meeting and tell the rest about what happened?”

Mike looked contemplatively at the carpet. “I’m not opposed to it, but don’t we have a movie night in a couple of days?”

“We could wait till then if you want.”

“That’s probably best. Oh, and Ben got those pictures developed. He’ll probably want us all to take a look at them.”

“What for?” Richie muttered to himself, finishing the crust of the right slice, his now pizza-less hands he wiped off on his jeans. “Said it yourself, won’t do any good.” 

“Ben’s peace of mind will probably appreciate it.” Mike quipped. “Besides, he was gonna give a bunch to you.” 

Richie folded his arms and turned to look at Mike, who even while sitting on the floor with Stan, still seemed tall, immovable.

“You shouldn’t have said that to Eddie.” 

“I’m not wrong.” Mike rebutted, unphased by the quick turn of subject.

“That doesn’t matter. You know he hates being told he’s got something wrong with him.”

“I never said having a panic disorder is wrong.”

“Doesn’t mean he’s not going to jump to that conclusion.”

“That’s on him.”

“You hurt his feelings, Mike!” 

“I was being honest!”

“That’s not always what Eddie wants.” Stan cut in. “We’ve been friends with him for a long time, Mike. He’s always preferred easy lies over hard truths.”

“It’s how he was raised.” Richie muttered under his breath as he fiddled with the carpet with his bare toes. 

“So you baby him and tell him what he wants to hear? How is that any better than his home life?” 

Richie and Stan remained silent.

“I’m not going to patronize him. I know he hates that shit even more. I’m going to be honest with him because he’s my friend and he deserves that, even if it makes him angry.” 

“That’s fair.” Richie acquiesced after a beat. “But he’s still gonna be pissy with you if you don’t apologize. And he probably won’t listen to your reasoning if he doesn’t like your accusation.”

“He’ll come around.”

 

__________________________________________________________________________________

 

Ben arrived home a little later than usual, pocket heavy with the weight of what he’d decided to do that evening. His whole demeanor was affected by the choice, his smile giddy as he unlocked the door. His mother was waiting with freshly reheated dinner, a telltale sign she was near the end of a pay period. The sight of the cheap, frozen meals steaming in their plastic wrap on the table made Ben feel a little sick, and abruptly wish he hadn’t just spent so much of his money.  _ It was supposed to help with groceries you idiot _ , Ben chastised himself. 

“Hey sweetie. Dinner’s on the table.” His mother greeted as she entered the room, smiling at Ben as he shed his shoes.

“I saw, looks delicious, thank you.” Despite his reservations about the situation, Ben would not refuse a meal from his mother, no matter the context. He knew he should sometimes, knew her constant over feeding was an almost exclusive reason for his issues with weight as a young man. But he was also aware it was one of her ways for making up for his father’s absence. She used food to show her love, and if he said he wasn’t hungry, she took it as rejection. Ben may not always be hungry, but God did he constantly love his mother.  _ So frozen dinners it is.  _

“You look particularly at peace this evening, Benny.” His mother commented as she crossed to the sink and began washing her hands. “Anything exciting happen today?”

Ben smiled shyly to himself as he got a glass and poured some juice from the fridge. “Uh, yeah actually.” He leaned over and set his cup down at his seat, then raised the jug of juice so his mother could see. “Want a glass?”

“Sure, thanks. Tell me about this excitement!” She pressed, drying her hands before sitting down.

“So, remember how I told you Bev and I’s anniversary is next week?” Ben couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he returned the juice to the fridge. “I got her gift today.” He beamed at his mother as he handed her her cup and sat down. 

She returned his grin. “What’d you get her?”

Ben looked around conspiratorially, preening when it made his mother laugh. They loved to joke that others might be around, that things must be secret, ever since Ben was a child and loved playing spies. When he deemed the coast was clear, he pulled the small ring box out of his pocket. 

“I got her this promise ring.” Ben said as reverently as he held it out under the light. His mother took it in hand, regarding the ring in awe.

“Oh Benny, this is  _ gorgeous _ .” She breathed.

“Think she’ll like it?” His tone betrayed his nervousness. “Bill helped me pick it out, I was so unsure.”

“Honey, she’ll  _ love _ it.” She smiled and returned the box to him. “It’s perfect.” 

“I sure hope so.” He pocketed the ring box and picked up his fork, using it to tear back the plastic wrap over his food. 

“Sorry it’s not plated, I wasn’t sure how late you’d be and I wanted it to stay warm.” His mother said as she took a drink.

“Oh no mom, this is fine. I don’t mind a bit.” Ben shook his head. 

“Oh, and speaking of miss Beverly, she left a voicemail for you a little while ago.” She added, cutting into her meatloaf. 

“Thanks, I’ll listen to it after dinner.” 

They ate in silence for a bit before she spoke again.

“I like that girl, Benny. I like her a lot. Think someday you’ll put a real ring on that finger?” 

Ben smiled down at his food.

“I sure hope so.”

 

__________________________________________________________________________________

 

“Georgie, can you get the door for us?”

“Sure momma.” Georgie Denbrough responded with a smile as he jumped down from his makeshift vegetable cutting station. His brother, who was tenderizing meat next to him smiled as he watched his brother happily run off. 

The doorbell rang again as Georgie rounded the corner. “Coming!” He called sweetly, beaming as he reached the door. He pulled it open easily with his one arm. 

“Oh- hi Georgie.”

Georgie squinted at the sight before him, happy but perplexed. Eddie Kaspbrak was on his doorstep, which he was excited about, because Eddie was his friend and he loved seeing him. But Eddie also looked hurt, his chin covered in bandaids and spots of dried blood on his yellow tee shirt.

“Hi Eddie.” Georgie kept his smile plastered on his face, reminding himself of what his mother always tells him;  _ don’t ask people invasive questions, Georgie. _

“Is your brother home?” Eddie asked nervously, wringing his hands on the bottom of his shirt. 

“Yeah, he’s in the kitchen.” Georgie gestured across his body, jerking towards the kitchen with a thumb. “Are you staying for dinner?” 

Eddie gave a short, airy laugh. “I’ll have to ask. Can I talk to him?”

“Billy!” Georgie suddenly switched to his outside voice. “Eddie’s here!”

Eddie gave Georgie a slightly surprised expression, impressed by the kid’s volume. A moment later Bill arrived in the doorway, chiding Georgie about yelling in the house. He stopped abruptly as he caught sight of Eddie in the doorway.

“Ed-eddie.” He wrinkled his brow. “You alright?”

“Uh, sorta. I’m- can uh, can I stay over tonight?”

“Yeah, of course. W-we’re just making-”

“Dinner, yeah, I’ll help.” Eddie scurried into the house, not bothering to give Bill a chance to finish the thought. The boys shared a look as they left the doorway, its meaning indecipherable to Georgie. He huffed to himself, feeling a bit angry about once again being left out of things, and went to close the door. He stopped his motion at the sight of the edges of their front garden, his gaze on the bushes that came up to the side of the doorstep. The small yellow flowers that usually bloomed on its stems in spring were opening up, unfurling at an unnatural speed, leaving the bush covered in fresh blossoms before it stopped. Georgie watched with wide eyes, confounded by the sight before him. 

_ Momma’s right _ , he thought as he finally willed himself to close the door.  _ I’ve been watching too many cartoons. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for sticking around for more updates! sorry im such an ass when it comes to getting these out quickly. i have a really good direction for the story moving forward so i hope i can get faster at updating. some more popcultureverse facts: georgie has one arm, when the boys were young the denbroughs were in a car accident where georgie lost his arm and bill sustained the brain damage that gave him his stutter. also no one supports benverly more than bill. he knows what he lost lmao. come see me on tumblr!!! @tohzier


	10. chapter 9 - june

Stanley’s overworked cassette player faithfully churned out note after note of Creedence’s Lodi as his SUV trudged through the streets of Derry. Ben sat in his passenger seat, foot tapping along to the beat. He leaned forward a bit, adjusting the AC vent aimed his way.

“Thanks for the ride, by the way.” He said after a few bars of the song played.

“Yep.” Stan tapped his fingers lightly on the wheel, not quite on beat. Ben watched him casually out of the corner of his eye, trying to weigh his next sentence before speaking.

“I know what you’re going to ask me.” Stan beat him to it, ever the observant one. 

Ben raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“I know I’m acting weird.” 

“I was just gonna ask if there was anything going on.” 

It was Stan’s turn to raise an eyebrow.

“Okay, stupid question.” Ben acquiesced. 

“I’m just really stressed about the group.” Stan confessed after another beat.

“I understand that.” 

“I mean- what are we doing? We’re all, I don’t know,  _ mutating _ , which is a whole thing I  _ know _ none of us know how to deal with. Richie’s had a whole bug up his ass about Eddie all summer, and  _ Eddie _ , Eddie got in a huge fight with Mike on Thursday and I haven’t heard from either of them since. Bill hasn’t spoken to me since the last time we were over, and I’m really worried he’s in his head again because he got  _ another _ rejection letter. Mike just told me the other week his dad is really sick, I think Eddie’s mother is about two days away from putting bars on his window, and I’ve got no idea what’s going on with you and Bev because you guys hardly share anything about your lives anymore-”

“ _ Stan _ .” Ben put a hand on Stan’s knee, using his firmest tone to jolt his friend out of his rambling. “You know that’s not all your responsibility, right?” 

“Of course it is Ben, you’re all my friends.”

Let me rephrase then; it’s not solely your responsibility.” 

“Well-”

“No, listen. It’s good that you want to be there for your friends and support them. We definitely all need you. But it’s not on you alone to fix all those problems.”

“I didn’t say-” 

“I know you didn’t. But I can tell you think it.” 

Stan gave him a sidelong glance.

“You’re not the only perceptive one.”

“I just feel like… like it’s on me to make sure everyone’s okay before I go.”

“In our defence,” Ben started with a laugh. “We’ll never be okay, especially after you go.” 

Stan wrinkled his brow. “That makes me feel real awesome about it, thanks.” 

“It’s nothing against you, Stan. Everyone’s gotta move on sometime. Doesn’t mean it won’t suck balls.” 

Stan’s face broke into a begrudging grin. “You really tell it like it is, Hanscom.” 

Ben laughed, deep from his belly. “No point in sugar-coating it. Losing you to Connecticut is gonna be the worst thing that ever happened to this lowly gang, and that’s  _ including _ when Bowers snapped Eddie’s arm like a twig.” 

“I would have thought for sure that would hold the championship title pretty much forever.” Stan laughed as he turned on his blinker, coming up on Bill’s street. 

“Apparently not; he told me a few weeks ago that he was actually grateful for it. Something about finally understanding what real pain feels like.” 

“Well I know I’ll become well acquainted with real pain here soon.” Stan said, suddenly solemn as he pulled into Bill’s driveway. He killed the engine and the two sat, Ben silently waiting for Stan to elaborate.

It took more than a beat, but he finally released his reservations.

“I don’t want to go away for school. I’m going to miss you guys more than life itself.” He sighed, his body relaxing as though the admission took all of the energy out of him. 

“We’re going to feel the same way.” Ben told him after a moment of thought, placing a hand on Stan’s shoulder reassuringly. He hoped beyond hope it’d sound sincere, that Stan would believe him. 

Judging by Stan’s smile, he did. 

“Thank you, Ben.” 

“Anything, anytime, Stan the man.” Ben returned the grin, one hand shooting a finger gun at Stanley and the other coming up to open the door handle. Stan copied his movement, the two of them clambering out of the car just as Mike came trundling up in the old pickup, Beverly jamming to a hard rock song in the passenger seat. The two boys stood on either side of the parked SUV, doors still open as they watched their friends with fond smiles. They wouldn’t know it ever for sure, but both Ben and Stan swore they could could hear a voice on the wind sighing, as if to say “ah, there’s my love”. 

For Ben, it was a thought as thoughtless as breathing. 

For Stan, it required a lot of analysis.  

 

__________________________________________________________________________________

 

“I vote if Richie doesn’t show up in the next ten minutes, he officially forfeits his turn for movie choice.” Mike pitched to the group, leaning back from his spot on the couch to look up at Ben and Bill, who were standing behind it, as best he could.

“I second that.” Beverly chipped in as she emerged from the kitchen with a giant bowl of popcorn held to her chest, Stan in tow with a twelve pack of sodas in each hand. “I do  _ not _ want to watch whatever he’s got in mind for tonight.” She sat in her regular spot in the center of the couch, popcorn bowl in her lap. She patted the space next to her as she looked up at Ben, an unnecessary request as they pretty much had assigned seating. Beverly sat in the middle of the couch, Mike on her right and Ben on her left. She was the popcorn keeper, so it was imperative she remained in a central location. Bill and Stan usually built a relatively intricate pillow fort on the floor in front of their couch, the amount of pillows and blankets entirely dependant on how long they intended on remaining on the ground. Richie and Eddie were frequently left to pull the loveseat closer to the TV and kept it longways, laying across it and tangling up with each other. “If he tries to make me watch  _ Breakfast Club _ one more time, I’m gonna smack him.” 

“Is it because he thinks you look like Molly Ringwald?” Mike asked cheekily, stealing a handful of popcorn. 

“He thinks he’s soooooo funny with the comparison.” Bev griped, stuffing a handful of popcorn into her mouth. “It’s like, he does know she’s in other movies though, right? He didn’t say a word when Ben put on  _ Sixteen Candles _ last month!”

“That’s p-probably b-b-because he was t-too busy ma-making fun of B-Ben for liking  _ Sic-Sixteen Candles _ .” Bill joked, setting up a plethora of pillows on the floor. 

Beverly dramatically gasped, placing her hands over Ben’s ears, dropping popcorn on him in the process. “Don’t listen to them baby, I love that you love  _ Sixteen Candles. _ ”

“My favorite Ringwald flick is  _ The Pick-up Artist _ .” Stan commented casually from the floor where he’d set up the sodas before he cracked one open. 

“Ooh, deep cut.” Mike smirked at him. 

Stan shrugged a shoulder. “What? I’m allowed to like things.”

“I’m just joshin’ ya.” Mike’s smile widened as he made grabby hands for the sodas.

“I know, ya kook.” Stan grabbed one and tossed it to him. 

“T-tap that c-can, Hanlon. You are n-n-not allowed to get s-soda on my mo-moms couch.” Bill warned Mike, looking at the soda can a bit like it was a loaded gun. 

“I know, I know, don’t get your panties in a twist.” Mike rolled his eyes, tapping the top of his can with a fingernail. The conversation came to a lull as he opened it and took a drink, the energy in the room growing tense. 

“Jesus, I wish Richie and Eddie would get here. I wanna get started already.” Ben commented, pointedly looking at his watch. The others nodded in agreement, but offered no conversation starters.

“I actually, uh, have something to mention while we wait on them.” Beverly cleared her throat, readjusting her position on the couch. 

“What’s up?” Ben put a hand on her leg, turning towards her partially.

“I had another vision.” She admitted sheepishly, glancing out of the corner of her eye at Mike. He’d been sworn to secrecy, but Ben still told Beverly what Mike had said about his disbelief. 

“What was it of?” Stan asked curiously. 

“Just a rainbow.” 

“That’s it?” Mike raised an eyebrow.

“Yep. That’s all. No clue what it means.” 

“Yeah, that’s me stumped.” Ben agreed. 

“I got no clue.” Bill put in. 

“Weird.” Stan acknowledged. 

“Yup.” Beverly popped the ‘P’, running her hands over her thighs nervously. The casual silence fell over them again. Before it became too much to bear, they heard the sounds of bickering and bike frames hitting the pavement outside.

“Ugh, finally.” Ben sighed. The sounds of Richie and Eddie’s hushed argument moved closer to the front door before it was being thrown open, the two entering the room mid-conversation.

“-you weren’t so  _ stubborn- _ ” Richie paused as he held the door open, Eddie entering looking like he could set fires with his eyes as he crossed under Richie’s arm. “Hi.” Richie practically slammed the door shut, turning to face the group and addressing them in a very aggressive tone. “Sorry we’re so late.  _ Someone _ has spent the last few hours refusing to let me remove the stick from his ass, so here we are, late to the party and the stick’s still there!” 

“Richie, would you shut the fuck  _ up _ already!” Eddie railed, glaring daggers at him.

“What the hell you two, what’s this about?” Ben squinted at them, deeply offended by their cruelty towards each other. 

“Anything you want to say to Mike?” Richie was still locked in some kind of combat of wills with Eddie, the two making charged eye contact.

“No.” Eddie said, with finality.

Mike had decided to keep his eyes down-cast, his arms crossed in a way that was more defensive than casual. Stan glanced guiltily between the two parties.

“Wh-why does Ed n-n-need to say anyth-thing to Mike?” Bill asked suspiciously, giving Eddie’s back a stern look. When Eddie refused to answer, Richie did, eyes still locked with the smaller boy’s.

“Mike and Eddie had a stupid fight and he refuses to apologize.”

“I have nothing to apologize for! I’m not the one who was being an accusatory asshole!”

“Well I’m not going to apologize either,” Mike cut in angrily. “I meant what I said.”

“I wasn’t talking to you!” Eddie snapped, looking slightly in Mike’s direction but not into his eyes.

“I’m not putting up with this. I’m going to the bathroom. If you can’t be civil by the time I come back, I’m leaving.” Mike stood up, voice firm and tinged with annoyance as he delivered his ultimatum before departing the room, trudging up the stairs. Eddie did nothing but huff, his eyes darting around as though he was searching for words. He gave up, retreating to the kitchen. Richie looked for a moment like he might follow him, but decided against it. Instead he flopped onto the pillow pile in front of the couch face-first, narrowly avoiding smacking his head onto Bill’s knee. It was silent for a beat before Richie let out one long, muffled groan. Beverly waited until he was done before looking at Stan, who wore a pained expression.

“Stanley, care to fill us in?” 

Stan swallowed nervously, glancing at Bill before speaking. 

“Mike and Eddie got in a fight the other day.” 

“Yeah, I think we gathered that.” Beverly said dryly. “Over what?”’

“Mike told Eddie he thinks he’s got a panic disorder.”

“Which I don’t!” Eddie called from the kitchen, alerting them to his eavesdropping.

“Then come in here and defend yourself!” Ben said angrily.

“Don’ wase yer ime.” Richie’s muffled voice came from the pillows. 

“I don’t have anything to say about it.” Eddie’s voice echoed from the empty kitchen.

“C-clearly you do.” Bill looked towards the darkened doorway, where he could make out Eddie’s silhouette, arms hugged around himself as he leaned against the counter and stared at his feet. Bill watched him shake his head. He turned back to the group with a roll of his eyes. Richie finally raised his head, folding his arms underneath it and resting his chin on them. He stared at the floor solemnly.

The group sat silent for a beat, each processing the situation. They heard the sound of a toilet flush upstairs. Richie sighed and pushed himself up to his feet, crossing the room to begin dragging the loveseat closer to the TV. 

Just as Mike reached the bottom of the stairs, Eddie came out of his hiding place in the kitchen. The two ran into each other in the hallway, Mike refusing to back down as he crossed his arms and essentially blocked Eddie’s path. Eddie stood across from him fidgeting, still refusing to meet his eye.

“I’m not apologizing.” Eddie managed after a beat.

“That’s something we can agree on.” Mike said flatly, before continuing with a raised eyebrow. “But can you behave yourself for the rest of the night?”

Eddie was silent again. 

“FneIgss.” A jumbled response finally came, muttered quietly to the floor. 

“Sorry, what was that?” Mike goaded.

“Fine. I guess.” Apparently having had enough, Eddie shoved past him to the living room. Mike followed with a deep sigh. The rest of the gang watched them return with trepidation and caution in their gazes; Eddie beelined to where Richie was stretched out on the loveseat, the two promptly curling around each other. Mike trudged over to his spot on the couch, sitting down like he had a backpack full of bricks on.

“S-so are we good?” Bill posed to the silence after the two settled. When Eddie didn’t respond, Mike exhaled. 

“I guess.”

“So R-Rich, what d-d-did you want t-to watch?” 

“Huh?” Richie started a bit at having the attention dragged to him, his mind preoccupied with studying the line of Eddie’s back, attempting to discern his feelings despite his face being turned away and pressed into the cushions. “Oh, uh. I forfeit my turn.” He responded distractedly.

“Dibs!” Beverly called immediately, trying to breathe some joy back into the room with a small smile. “I want to watch Dazed and Confused.”

“But w-we don’t have any w-weed.” Bill cracked a smile too.

“So? We’ll watch it high before the summer is through, I promise.”

“I’m down.” Ben shrugged. “I haven’t seen it yet.” 

“What?!” Richie tuned back into the conversation. “Yes you have, we all went and saw it dummy!”

“I worked that night, dipshit.” Ben reached over and clapped Richie on the back of the head.

“Ah, fuck. Okay. I second it, play the tape Stanny.” Richie settled into the loveseat more, shifting Eddie into a more comfortable position. “Throw a guy a blanket, Billiam?” Bill reached over and grabbed a spare blanket from the pile he and Stan had assembled, handing it over to Richie as Stan got the movie in and playing. Mike reached over to the side table beside him and turned out the light. 

The opening studio logos began to play on the screen, blankets and pillows were distributed and adjusted, drinks and popcorn were handed out and consumed. Anyone looking in the window on the street as they passed would see only a picture of peace. 

 

__________________________________________________________________________________

 

Once again, Stan was the first to wake up. Since Georgie was at a friends house, and Mr. and Mrs. Denbrough were at Bill’s uncles’ for the weekend up in Bangor, some of the gang had decided to stay in the living room. Bev and Ben had claimed Bill’s bed early in the night, Bill himself choosing to crash in his brothers bed. Richie and Eddie had been asleep on their loveseat during the second movie, but had woken sometime later and decided to go back to the Toziers, leaving Stan and Mike on the couches. 

Presently, Stan was groggily returning to the land of the living, glancing to the side and seeing Mike lightly snoring in the soft glow of the early sunlight. His stomach twisted and dropped at the sight.  _ You’re just hungry _ , he repeated to himself, desperately trying to rationalize his thoughts. He threw the blanket off of him and stood quietly, hoping a trip to the bathroom and a cup of coffee could shake him out of the wild thoughts swimming in his mind. 

When he returned from the bathroom, Mike was awake, sitting up and rubbing at his forehead in an attempt to clear away the residual sleep. 

“Morning,” Stan said softly, a tiny smile painting his face. “Coffee?”

“No thanks,” Mike declined, shaking his head before sitting up fully to look at Stan. “I’m actually gonna head out, go home and sleep some more before work.” 

Stanley pointedly ignored the way his stomach fell, disappointment at the idea of not getting to spend the day with Mike seeping in. 

“Fair.” He settled on, releasing a light laugh to disguise his real reaction. _One_ _that_ _needs_ _very_ _thorough_ _examination_ , he thought, mortified at the implications. 

“I’ll see you guys when I see you, I guess?” Mike nervously spoke as he stood and gathered his things. 

“I guess.” Stan responded, somewhat despondently. “Everything’s been so chaotic lately, it’s hard to say for certain.”

“Well, I hope we don’t start pulling the whole ‘barely see each other every few weeks’ shit again, I hated that.” Mike turned to face him in the middle of the living room.

“Me too.” 

“So don’t be a stranger.” Mike was then pulling him into a hug, sliding his arms around Stanley in that old familiar way, enveloping him in a warmth and comfort and a sudden overwhelming  _ feeling _ that had Stan reeling by the time it was over.

“I won’t. Promise.” 

He’d barely caught his breath by the time Mike bid him farewell, and was gone.

 

__________________________________________________________________________________

 

“Okay, what about this one?”

“Still a no, Rich.”

“Jesus Christ, it’s like you’ve been living under a rock!” Richie dramatically fell backwards with the vinyl in hand, Eddie barely managing to catch it before he hit the ground. 

“You’ll have to excuse my lack of concern.” Eddie deadpanned.

“It’s my sworn, God given duty to educate you.” Richie looked up at him from the floor, plucking the Queen album from Eddie’s hand before scrambling back to his feet and crossing to his record player. 

“The only thing God gave you is glaucoma.” Eddie snorted, moving to make himself comfortable on Richie’s bed.

“For the last time, Eduardo,” Richie sighed as he placed the needle on the record. “I do not have glaucoma.” 

“Yet.” Eddie said plainly as he laid back, arms crossed under his head. The album began spinning, notes filling the room, mismatched to the bopping of Richie’s head as he missed the rhythm. He danced poorly across the room, eventually reaching the edge of his bed and falling onto it gracelessly, landing parallel to Eddie on his stomach.

“Maybe I won’t get it.” He protested feebly. 

“Your dad has it. You’ve got like, an eighty percent likelihood.”

“Who knows. Maybe it’ll skip me. I’m special.”

“You sure are.” Eddie joked with a snort. Richie retaliated by pinching his side. “Hey!” 

“You dealt it.”

“Verbally!” 

“And I didn’t have a good comeback! So.”

Eddie stuck his tongue out, punctuating the gesture by blowing a raspberry. 

“Hey Eds.”

“Yes lint-for-brains?”

“Hey seriously.” Richie frowned.

“What seriously.”

“Have you been home since the other day?” 

Eddie decided to pay particularly close attention to that part of the song.

“Eds.”

“Drop it, Richie.” Eddie conceded after the song faded. 

“Not even going to give me an answer?”

“I said-”

“Yeah, I heard. You speak, I hear, that’s how it always fuckin’ goes with us. Now speak what I’m  _ asking _ to hear, Eddie.” He sat up a little, supporting his midsection with his arms so he could watch Eddie’s expression from above. He was refusing to make eye contact with him, but Richie could see the gears turning in his mind. 

“I have. A couple times. Mostly when she’s not home. We’ve been exchanging notes.” 

“There, was that so hard?”

“I just don’t want to discuss it, dipshit.” 

“Well, I got that, but I would like to know whether or not I’m harboring a fugitive.” 

Eddie sighed and turned to look at him, finally.

“Fair.”

“Do you need to go home soon?”

“Probably,” Eddie threw his hands up to cover his face. “But- not till this album is over. You want me to listen to it.”

Richie beamed, moving to hover over Eddie before letting his arms go slack under him, effectively dropping his body weight on the other boy’s chest.

“You’d do that for little old me?” Richie crooned, wrapping his arms around Eddie and squeezing. 

“Jesus- yes, Christ- can’t leave now, could I?” He laughed, wriggling in Richie’s grasp. 

“Nope, you’re stuck all the way through  _ Lap of the Gods Revisited _ .” 

“ _ Revisited _ ?!” They laughed, one song ending and the music picking up again with something much moodier. 

They stayed like that, songs bleeding into each other, neither making a move to detach or address their current position. At some point Eddie’s hands came to rest on Richie’s back, loosely fiddling with the hem of his shirt. 

The first side of the album finished, silence following the click of the turntable as it stopped. Still, neither boy moved. After some time, Richie finally took a deep breath and spoke. 

“I should go flip it.” 

“Yeah. You should.”

They moved minutely,  barely shifting their placements enough to look at each other, their faces dangerously close. That same electricity from a few days ago was back in force, that live wire suddenly alight and pulling tight between them. An inordinate amount of time passed while they just stared, drinking in each other’s faces like patrons in a museum exhibit.

Richie was the first to gather his senses.

“I’ll go, uh-” He started eloquently. “I’m gonna, uh, flip it.” He nodded, more so to himself before detangling from Eddie and eventually standing up. 

“Right. Yeah.” Eddie agreed, slowly sitting up. “I’m going to- uh- use the restroom.” He said quietly before nervously ducking out of the room.

When he reached the bathroom, he locked the door behind himself and promptly went for the sink, splashing cold water onto his face and shaking his head. Hundreds upon hundreds of variations of the same thought swam in a frenzy in his head, and more than anything he wanted them to be silenced. For weeks, maybe months, maybe years, if he’s honest, he’s been pushing all those swarming flies of his frightening truth out open windows and smashing them with fly swatters. But denial always fills bottles not bottomless, and now it was spilling over, and for the first time in his life perhaps, Eddie is considering letting the honesty pour. 

He looked at himself in the mirror, hoping a seconds pep-talk might keep him from chickening out. But just as he made to speak, that fear was back, that lightning strike of wrong and danger, accompanied by a violent purple tinge to everything in his vision. And just as there wasn’t all the times before, a reason why did not present itself; Eddie just  _ knew _ .

_ Richie _ .

He unlocked the door so swiftly he’s a little afraid he’s broken it, but he doesn’t stop to assess the damage. He threw the door open and dashed down the hall in a daze, pervasive fear making it hard for him to move with clarity.

He got to Richie’s room, hands flying to turn the knob, when his heart stopped dead in its tracks.

The door was locked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this update is such a long time coming! i could write out a big list of excuses but tbh i'm a human being, i'm allowed to not be perfect at this. tldr i got a new job, moved out, became an Adult and my hometown burned down. its been a wild few months. but i hope this chapter was worth the wait!! the next will be a special milestone chapter with a fun format, some back story, and a scene i'm sure you've all been waiting for. & it'll be longer than usual! so stay tuned <3 sorry for the cliffhanger (i'm not)


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